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M E M 1 11 S 



OF THE LIFE 



OF 



ANNE BOLEYN, 

QUEEN OF HENRY VIII. 

£\l•^.7*\>e.\V^ Oo1\yij 

By miss BENGER, 

AUTHOR OF "MEMOIRS OF MRS. ELIZABETH HAMILTON." 



FROM THE THIRD LONDON EDITION. 



with a memoir of the author, 
By miss AIKIN. 



PHILADELPHIA: 

A. HART, LATE CAREY and HART, 

lie CHESTNUT STREET. 

1850. 



MEMOIR 



OF 



MISS BENGEU. 



Elizabeth Ogilvy Benger, whose life affords an inte- 
resting example of female genius, struggling into day, 
through obstacles which might well have daunted even the 
bolder energies of manly enterprise, was born in the city 
of Wells, in February, 1778. She was an only child ; a 
circumstance which her affectionate heart always led her 
to regard as a misfortune. Her father, somewhat late in 
life, was impelled by an adventurous disposition to give up 
commerce and enter the navy, and ultimately became a 
purser. In consequence of this change he removed his 
family to Chatham, when his daughter was four years of 
age ; and, — with the exception of about two years' resi- 
dence at Portsmouth, — Chatham or Rochester was her 
abode till the year 1797. An ardour for knowledge, a 
passion for literary distinction, disclosed itself with the 
first dawnings of reason, and never left her. Her connec- 
tions were not literary ; and her sex, no less than her 
situation, debarred her from the most effective means of 
mental cultivation. She has been heard to relate, that in 

the tormenting want of books which she suffered during 

(iii) 



iv MEMOIR OF 

her childhood, it was one of her resources to plant herself 
at the window of the only bookseller's shop in the place, to 
read the open pages of the new publications there dis- 
played, and to return again, day after day, to examine 
whether, by good fortune, a leaf of any of them might 
have been turned over. But the bent of her mind was so 
decided, that a judicious friend prevailed upon her mother 
at length to indulge it ; and at twelve years of age she 
received instruction in the Latin language. At thirteen 
she wrote a poem of considerable length, called " The Fe- 
male Geniad," in which, imperfect as it necessarily was, 
strong traces of opening genius were discerned. With the 
sanction of her father it appeared in print, dedicated to 
the late Lady de Crespigny, to whom she was introduced 
by her uncle. Sir David Ogilvy, and from whom she after- 
wards received much kind and flattering attention. 

Her father contemplated her literary progress with 
delight and with pride ; and on his appointment to the 
lucrative situation of purser on board Admiral Lord 
Keith's own ship, it was his first care to direct that no ex- 
pense should be spared in procuring instruction for his 
daughter, in every branch of knowledge which it might 
be her wish to acquire: but the death of this indulgent 
parent in the East Indies, within a year afterwards, blighted 
the fair prospect now opening upon her. Cares and diffi- 
culties succeeded ; the widow and the orphan, destitute of 
effectual protection in the prosecution of their just claims, 
became the victims of fraud and rapacity, and a very 



MISS BENGER. V 

slender provision was all that could be secured from the 
wreck of their hopes and fortunes. In the course of the 
following year, 1797, they removed to the neighbourhood 
of Devizes, where, together with the society of affectionate 
friends and kind relations. Miss Benger also enjoyed free 
access to a well-stored library. But that intense longing 
for the society of the eminent and the excellent, which 
always distinguished her, could only be gratified, as she 
was sensible, in London ; and thither, about the beginning 
of 1800, her mother was induced to remove. Here, 
partly through the favour of Lady de Crespigny, partly 
by means of her early intimates, Miss Jane and Miss 
Anna Maria Porter, but principally through the zealous 
friendship of Miss Sarah Wesley, who had already dis- 
covered her in her retirement, she almost immediately 
found herself ushered into society where her merit was 
fully appreciated and warmly fostered. The late Dr. 
George Gregory, well known in the literary world, and 
his admirable wife, a lady equally distinguished by talents 
and virtues, were soon amongst the firmest and most 
affectionate of her friends. By them she was gratified 
with an introduction to Miss Elizabeth Hamilton, of whom 
she afterwards gave so interesting a memoir ; to the 
author of the Pleasures of Hope ; to Mrs. Barbauld, and 
to the late Dr. Aikin, with the different members of whose 
family, but especially with her who now inscribes, with an 
aching heart, this slender record of her genius and virtues, 

she contracted an affectionate intimacy, never interrupted 
1* 



vi MEMOIR OF 

through a period of more than twenty years, and only 
severed, at length, by the stroke which all things mortal 
must obey. Another, and a most valuable connection, 
which she afterwards formed, was with the family of R. 
Smirke, Esq., R. A., in whose accomplished daughter she 
found an assiduous and faithful friend, whose offices of love 
followed her, without remission, to the last. Mrs. Inch- 
bald, Mrs. Joanna Baillie, the excellent Mrs. Weddell, 
and many other names distinguished in literature or in 
society, might be added to the list of those who delighted 
in her conversation, and took an interest in her happiness. 
Her circle of acquaintance extended with her fame, and 
with the knowledge of her excellent qualities ; and she was 
often enabled to assemble, as guests at her humble tea- 
table, names whose celebrity would have insured attention 
in the proudest saloons of the metropolis. 

Early in her literary career, Miss Benger had been 
induced to fix her hopes of fame on the drama, for which 
her genius appeared in many respects well adapted ; but 
after ample experience of the anxieties, delays, and disap- 
pointments which in this age sicken the heart of almost 
every candidate for celebrity in this department, she tried 
her powers in other attempts, and produced, first, her 
poem on the Abolition of the Slave Trade, and afterwards 
two novels, published anonymously. Many passages in 
the poem are replete with sentiment and imagination, and 
there are lines of great harmony and beauty ; but a sug- 
gested subject is unfavourable to inspiration, and the 



MISS BENGER. vii 

piece would have borne condensation with advantage. Of 
the novels, Marian, the first and the best, did not obtain 
the attention which it deserved, and which the name of 
the author would probably have secured it. The style is 
eloquent and striking ; the characters have often the air 
of well-drawn portraits ; the situations are sometimes highly 
interesting ; and, with many passages of pathos, there are 
several of genuine humour : the principal failure is in the 
plot, which, in itself improbable, is neither naturally nor 
perspicuously unfolded. The same general character 
applies to Yalsinore, or The Heart and the Fancy ; but 
of this piece the story is equally faulty, and the interest 
less highly wrought. No judicious person, however, could 
peruse either work without perceiving that the artist was 
superior to the work ; that the excellencies were such as 
genius only could reach, the deficiencies what a more accu- 
rate and comprehensive knowledge of the laws of compo- 
sition, or a more patient application of the labour of cor- 
rection, might without difficulty have supplied. No one, 
in fact, was more sensible than herself, that she had not 
yet attained the power of doing justice, in the execution, to 
the first conceptions of her fancy ; and finding herself in 
many respects unfavourably circumstanced for acquiring 
that mastery in literary skill, she prudently turned her 
attention from fictitious narrative to biography and criti- 
cism ; rising in her later works to the department of his- 
tory. Between the years 1814 and 1825, she gave to the 
world, in rapid succession. Remarks on Mad. de Stacl's 



viii MEMOIR OF 

Germany ; Memoir of Mrs. Hamilton ; Memoirs of Jolin 
Tobin (author of the Honej-moon) ; Notices of Klopstock 
and his Friends, prefixed to a translation of their Letters 
from the German ; and the Life of Anne Boleyn, and 
Memoirs of Mary Queen of Scots, and of the Queen of 
Bohemia. Most of these works obtained deserved popu- 
larity ; and she would probably have added to her reputa- 
tion by her projected Memoirs of Henry IV. of France, 
had life and health been lent her for their completion. 

But to those who knew her and enjoyed her friendship, 
her writings, pleasing and beautiful as they are, were the 
smallest part of her merit and her attraction. Endowed 
with the warmest and most grateful of human hearts, she 
united to the utmost delicacy and nobleness of sentiment, 
active benevolence, which knew no limit but the furthest 
extent of her ability, and a boundless enthusiasm for the 
good and fair, wherever she discovered them. Her lively 
imagination, and the flow of eloquence which it inspired, 
aided by one of the most melodious of voices, lent an inex- 
pressible charm to her conversation, which was heightened 
by an intuitive discernment of character, rare in itself, and 
still more so in combination with such fertility of fancy 
and ardency of feeling. As a companion, whether for the 
graver or the gayer hour, she had indeed few equals ; and 
her constant forgetfulness of self, and unfailing sympathy 
for others, rendered her the general friend, and favourite, 
and confidant, of persons of both sexes, all classes, and all 
ages. Many would have concurred in judgment with Ma- 



MISS BENGER. UB 

dame de Stael, when she pronounced Miss Benger the 
most interesting woman she had seen during her visit to 
England. 

With so much to admire and love, she had everything 
to esteem. Of envy or jealousy there was not a trace in 
her composition : her probity, veracity, and honour, de- 
rived, as she gratefully acknowledged, from the early pre- 
cepts of an assiduous and most respectable mother, were 
perfect. Though not less free from pride than from 
vanity, her sense of independence was such, that no one 
could fix upon her the slightest obligation capable of 
lowering her in any eyes ; and her generous propensity to 
seek those most who needed her ofiices of friendship, ren- 
dered her, in the intercourses of society, much oftener the 
obliger than the party obliged. No one was more scru- 
pulously just to the characters and performances of others ; 
no one more candid; no one more deserving of every 
kind of reliance. 

It is gratifying to reflect to how many hearts her unas- 
sisted merit found its way. Few persons have been more 
widely or deeply deplored in their sphere of acquaintance ; 
but even those who knew and loved her best, could not 
but confess that their regrets were purely selfish. To her 
the pains of sensibility seemed to be dealt in even fuller 
measure than its joys : her childhood and early youth 
were consumed in a solitude of mind, and under a sense 
of the contrariety between her genius and her fate, which 
had rendered them sad and full of bitterness ; her maturer 



X MEMOIR OF MISS BENGER. 

years were tried by cares, privations, and disappointments, 
and not seldom by unfeeling slights or thankless neglect. 
The irritability of her constitution, aggravated by in- 
quietude of mind, had rendered her life one long disease. 
Old age, which she neither wished nor expected to attain, 
might have found her solitary and ill provided — now she 
has taken "the wings of the dove, to flee away and be 
at rest." 

A short but painful illness terminated her career, on 
January 9th, 1827. 



PREFACE. 



In the records of biography, there is, perhaps, no cha- 
racter that more forcibly exemplifies the vanity of human 
ambition than that of Anne Boleyn : elevated to a throne, 
devoted to a scafi'old, she appears to have been invested 
with royalty only to offer an example of humiliating degra- 
dation, such as modern Europe had never witnessed. But, 
abstracted from those signal vicissitudes of fortune, which, 
in every age and country, must awaken curiosity and sym- 
pathy, there are various circumstances connected with the 
history of Anne Boleyn, which are calculated to create 
peculiar interest in the English reader. It would be 
ungrateful to forget that the mother of Queen Elizabeth 
was the early and zealous advocate of the Reformation, 
and that by her efforts to dispel the gloom of ignorance 
and superstition, she conferred on the English people a 
benefit, of which, in the present advanced state of know- 
ledge and civilization, it would be difficult to conceive or 
to appreciate the real value and importance. But the most 
prominent feature of her destiny is, that the abolition of 

(11) 



xii PREFACE. 

papal supremacy in this country must be referred to her 
influence ; and that the only woman ever permitted to effect 
a change in our national and political institutions, has 
been instrumental in introducing and establishing a better 
system of things, whose effects have altered the whole 
fabric of society. On this single circumstance, perhaps, is 
founded the diversity of opinion which to this day prevails 
respecting the moral qualities of Anne Boleyn, alternately 
the subject of unqualified censure and extravagant praise. 
Catholic bigots and Protestant enthusiasts, calumniators 
and encomiasts, historians and poets, have alike conspired 
to create and transmit of her an unfaithful and even a 
distorted portraiture. It is, however, worthy of remark, 
that whilst she is reproached for real virtues by Bayle, and 
by Marot stigmatised for pretended vices, Calderon, the 
great dramatic poet of Spain, leaves her chastity unim- 
peached. In his fine play, "The Schism of England," 
she is invested with the ambition of Lady Macbeth ; but 
her ruin is attributed to Henry's fantastic and impetuous 
jealousy. 

In offering these Memoirs to the public, the author has 
to lament the absence of some important documents 
respecting Anne Boleyn's early life, which, till lately, 
were extant in the libraries of Paris and Berne, but which 
are now transferred to other seats of learning and science, 
where they may perhaps continue to be inaccessible. To 
introduce history without an obvious necessity, formed no 
part of the original plan ; but it appeared impossible to 



PREFACE. xiii 

separate the details of Anne Boleyn's fate from those 
great political events, in which she was destined to per- 
form an important part : still less could her character and 
conduct be understood without preliminary sketches of the 
customs and manners of the age ; to illustrate which, the 
minute description of Queen Mary's bridal progress, and 
other details, derived from our old garrulous chroniclers, 
have been introduced. 

Whatever may be the defects in the plan or execution 
of this little work, the author ventures to hope she shall 
obtain credit for the assertion, that she has been actuated 
by no motives inconsistent with the spirit of candour and 
a humble but unaffected love of truth. 



CONTENTS. 



INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 

PAGE 

HENRY THE EIGHTH, AND HIS COURT AND CHARACTER 
IN YOUTH. 

EDUCATION OF HENRY VIII. — CHARACTER OF CATHERINE OF ARRAGON — 
CORONATION OF HENRY AND CATHERINE — FESTIVITIES — MANNERS AND 
ETIQUETTE OF THE COURT — BIRTH OF A PRINCE — CELEBRATION OF THE 
EVENT — 3IANNERS OF THE ENGLISH — STATE OF THE CLERGY — SIR THOMAS 
MORE .... - 19 



CHAPTER II. 

OF THE DESCENT OF THE BOLEYNES. — THE INTRODUCTION 
OF ANN BOLEYN AT THE FRENCH COURT. 

SIR GEOFFREY BOLEYNE — SIR WILLIAM BOLEYNE — THE EARL OF SURREY 
— SIR THOMAS BOLEYN — ANNE BULLEN — INFANCY — THE LADY ELIZABETH 
— FOX — WOLSEY — HIS MISSION TO FRANCE — HIS CHARACTER — HIS RISE — 
WAR WITH FRANCE — CATHERINE'S REGENCY — CHARLES BRANDON — ED- 
MUND DE LA POLE — HIS DEATH — LETTER OF CATHERINE OF ARRAGON" 
MAXIMILIAN — BATTLE OF SPURS — LETTER OF CATHERINE — WOLSEY A BI- 
SHOP — THE DUCHESS OF SURREY — WAR WITH SCOTLAND — BATTLE OF FLOD- 
DEN FIELD — SIR CHARLES SOMERSET — HENRY's FAVOURITES — A TOURNA- 
MENT — THE PRINCESS MARY AFFIANCED TO LOUIS XII. — ANNE A MAID OF 

HONOUR MARY's FOLLOWERS — THE VOYAGE THE LANDING — CAVALCADE 

— INTERVIEW WITH THE KING — LOUIS XII. — MARY's MARRIAGE HER LET- 
TER TO HENRY — HER ATTENDANTS DISMISSED — THE TOURNAMENT — DEATH 

OF LOUIS XII. — Mary's second marriage — her pardon by henry — 

HER DOMESTIC HAPPINESS 

(15) 



45 



xvi CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER III. 

LETTERS AND EMBASSIES OF SIR THOMAS BOLEYN. — THE 
FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 

QUEEN CLAUDE — ANNE's DUTIES AS MAID OF HONOUR — HER POSITION — 
EDUCATION OF YOUNG NOBLES — ANNe's CHILDHOOD — ROCHFORD HALL — 
ANNE's character — HER ACQUIREMENTS — MARGARET OF ALAN5ON — HER 
CHARACTER — ANNe's ADVANTAGES — FRENCH EMBASSY — A BANQUET — SIR 
THOMAS BOLEYN's MISSION — WOLSEY's AMBITION — HIS MUNIFICENCE — HIS 
SCHEMES — SIR THOMAS BOLEYN — HIS MISSION TO FRANCE — HIS LETTERS TO 
THE KING — ELECTION OF CHARLES V. AS EMPEROR OF GERMANY — BOLEYN's 
LETTER — BIRTH OF THE DUKE OF ORLEANS — BOLEYN's DILIGENCE — CON- 
DITION OF HENRY AND FRANCIS — VISIT OF CHARLES V. — HENRY's VISIT TO 
FRANCIS — THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD — MEETING OF HENRY AND 
FRANCIS — henry's DRESS — 'AMUSEMENTS — EXTRAVAGANCE OF THE NO- 
BLES — THE TWO QUEENS — THE BELLES OF FRANCE — BALLADS — FRANCIS 
VISITS HENRY — ANNE BOLEYN AT THE MASQUE — END OF THE MEETING AT 
GUISNES . . 85 



CHAPTER ly. 

RETURN OF ANNE BOLEYN TO ENGLAND. — ESTABLISHMENT 
AT COURT. — ATTACHMENT TO PERCY. — SEPARATION OP 
THE LOVERS. 

WOLSEY — DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM — HIS TRIAL — WAR WITH FRANCE — 
ANNE's RETURN TO ENGLAND — ANNE INTHEQUEEN's SERVICE— CHARAC- 
TER OF CATHERINE — HENRY's GALLANTRY — HE MEETS ANNE — A MASKED 
BALL — henry's VISIT TO WOLSEY — ANNe's BEAUTY — HER MANNERS — 
ACCOMPLISHMENTS — MORAL QUALITIES — LUXURY OF THE COURT — MAIDS 
OF HONOUR — EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND — OLD CASTLES — SERVANTS' 
AMUSEMENTS — PERCY WOOES ANNE — THE LOVERS SEPARATED — PERCY 
AND WOLSEY — NORTHUMBERLAND'S LECTURE — ANNE's RESENTMENT . 121 

CHAPTER V. 

ANNE BOLEYN's RETIREMENT AT HEVER CASTLE. — RECALL 
TO COURT. — CELEBRATED BY SIR THOMAS WIATT. — 
PROGRESS OF HENRY^S ATTACHMENT. 

ANNe's apartment at HEVER CASTLE — THE BOLEYN FAMILY — DISCORD 
—MARRIAGE OF PERCY — HENRY VISITS HEVER— HER FATHER PROMOTED — 



CONTENTS. xvii 

PAGS 

STR WM. CAREY — ANNE RETURNS TO COURT — HER SENTIMENTS TOWARDS 

THE KING SCHOLARS AT COURT — FINEUX DIPLOMACY — LAWYERS — POETS 

AND AUTHORS — WIATT AND SURREY WIATT's ADMIRATION OF ANNE 

— HIS ATTENTIONS — WIATT A PROTESTANT — THE JEWEL — HENRY's GAL- 
LANTRY — THE KING — CORRESPONDENCE HENRY's LETTERS — ANNe's 

PRUDENCE A GAME AT CARDS — CATHERINE'S FORBEARANCE THE POPE's 

BULL — LAW OF DIVORCE — WOLSEY's POLICY — HENRY's COURTSHIP . 149 



CHAPTER Yl. 

COMMENCEMENT OF THE PROCESS OF DIVORCE. 

WOLSEY's state — HIS DISAPPOINTMENT — BATTLE OF PA VI A — DR. PACE 
— WOLSEY's INTRIGUES — SIEGE OF ROME — NEGOTIATIONS WITH FRAN- 
CIS I. — WOLSEY's MISSION TO FRANCE — HIS RETURN — OPINIONS OF THE 
BISHOPS — ANNE HATED BY WOLSEY — HER PROTESTANTISM — HER LETTER TO 
WOLSEY — REASONS FOR ANNE's CONDUCT — HER GOOD QUALITIES — WIATT's 
POEMS — HENRY HOWARD — GEORGE BOLEYN — EMBASSY FROM FRANCE — 
BANQUET — THE KINg's TENT — HIS TREAT — ALMONER FOX — GARDINER — 

henry's letter — CARDINAL CAMPEGGIO HENRY's DUPLICITY — HIS 

SCRUPLES — RELATIONS OF CATHERINE AND ANNE — CATHERINE'S POPULA- 
RITY — THE SWEATING SICKNESS — SIR WILLIAM CAREY — SICKNESS OF ANNE 

HER RECOVERY — DISCONTENT OF THE PEOPLE ANNE LEAVES THE 

COURT — POSITION OF HENRY — HENRY's LETTERS TO ANNE — CARDINAL 
CAMPEGGIO'S NEGOTIATIONS — ILLNESS OF THE POPE — THE CONSISTORIAL 
COURT — PATHETIC ADDRESS OF CATHERINE — SHE DENIES THE JURISDIC- 
TION AND QUITS THE COURT 181 

CHAPTER VII. 

WOLSEY's DISGRACE. — ANNE's CORONATION. 

EDICTS THE COURT — CATHERINE'S FIRMNESS — COMPEGGIO'S DECISION 

— henry's rage — WOLSEY's DISGRACE HIS DECEIT EXPOSED — EFFECTS 

OF THE VERDICT — THE LUTHERANS CRANMER SUMMONED TO COURT 

WOLSEY's ENEMIES — HIS RECEPTION BY THE KING — PERPLEXITY OF ANNE 
— HER INFLUENCE — FALL OF WOLSEY — HIS RETIREMENT — HIS FINAL DIS- 
MISSION — HIS CATHOLICISM HIS SUCCESSORS — GARDINER CROMWEL 

MORE — CRANMER — STATE OF MORALS — LUTHER's OPINION — THE UNIVER- 
SITIES — THE CLERGY AND PARLIAMENT — SATISFACTION OF THE PEOPLE — 

THE REFORMERS ENCOURAGED — REMONSTRANCE DEATH OF WOLSEY 

DISMISSAL OF CATHERINE — EMBARRASSMENT OF HENRY — CRANMER's IN- 
STRUCTIONS — INTERCOURSE OF HENRY AND ANNE DOMESTIC HABITS OF 

HENRY — CARDINAL DU BELLAl's LETTER — ANNe's OCCUPATIONS — GRAND 
2* 



xviii CONTENTS. 

PAGE 
CEREMONIAL — ANNE CREATED A MARCHIONESS — A FEAST — PROGRESS TO 
FRANCE — MEETING OF HENRY AND FRANCIS I. — 'HAWKING PARTY — DANCES 
— MARRIAGE OF ANNE — HER CORONATION — THE EARL AND COUNTESS 
OF WILTSHIRE 223 



CHAPTER VIII. 

SEQUEL OF THE HISTORY OP QUEEN ANNE BOLEYN- 

CARES OF ROYALTY — THE DUKE OF NORFOLK — THE DUCHESS — ANNe's 
ATTENDANTS — GARDINER — LUTHER — DESIGNS OF THE REFORMERS — TRAN- 
SUBSTANTIATION — 'LATIMER — THE COURT — BIRTH OF THE PRINCESS ELIZA- 
BETH — THE CHRISTENING ELIZABETH'S HOUSEHOLD — SOURCES OF CHA- 
GRIN — THE NUN OF BOOKING— FATE OF FISHER AND MORE — HENRY's THEO- 
LOGY ANNE'S PROTECTION OF PROTESTANTS MISSION TO GERMANY — 

HOPES OF AN HEIR — DIMINUTION OF HENRY's AFFECTION — JANE SEYMOUR 

— Catherine's death — discovery of jane's intrigue by anne — ill- 
ness OF ANNE — DESIGNS OF HENRY — HIS SPIES — LADY ROCHFORD — ANNe's 
charities — NORRIS AND WESTON — CALUMNIES — TROUBLES OF ANNE — 
THE king's policy — THE FATAL TOURNAMENT — ARREST OF WESTMORE- 
LAND AND NORRIS — ANNE ARRESTED — COMMITTED TO THE TOWER — HER 

DEPORTMENT IN PRISON— HER ATTENDANTS HER ANSWER TO HENRY's 

DEMAND OF A CONFESSION — HER LAST LETTER TO THE KING HER SUBSE- 
QUENT DEPORTMENT — THE JUDICIAL COURT THE TRIAL THE SENTENCE 

ANNE's ADDRESS TO THE DUKE OF NORFOLK — CAUSE OF HER CONDEMNA- 
TION HER CONDUCT AFTER CONDEMNATION — HER INTERCESSION FOR THE 

PRINCESS ELIZABETH — HER CONVERSATION WITH KINGSTON — HER EXECU- 
TION — INJUSTICE OF THE SENTENCE 268 

SUPPLEMENTAL REMARKS ON THE BOLEYNS 321 

APPENDIX 327 



INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 

HENRY THE EIGHTH, AND HIS COURT AND CHARACTER IN 

YOUTH. 

Education of Henry VIII. — Character of Catherine of Arragon — Coro- 
nation of Henry and Catherine — Festivities — Manners and Etiquette 
of the Court — Birth of a Prince — Celebration of the Event — Manners 
of the English — State of the Clergy — Sir Thomas More. 

Anne Boleyn, or Bullen, was born in 1507, two years be- 
fore Henry the Eighth ascended the throne of England : the 
revolutions of her fortune are indissolubly connected with the 
changes of that eventful reign, and offer an interesting illustra- 
tion of those earlier times, in which we discover rather a foreign 
than a familiar aspect ; features strange to our sympathies, and 
repulsive to our conceptions of the English character. In con- 
templating this antiquated portraiture of our country, we are 
admonished, by certain internal feelings, of the immeasurable 
distance between us. It is not alone the exterior that creates 
this impression of remoteness and alienation : imagination might 
renovate fashions long since decayed, or impart grace to beauty 
and honour mouldering in oblivion. We could be reconciled to 
the coat of mail and ponderous spear ; but we recoil from the 
image of England, entrammelled by ignorance and superstition, 
abetting persecution and oppression, and submitting with pusil- 
lanimous baseness to become alternately the minister and the 

(19) 



20 CHARACTER OF HENRY VIII. 

victim of tyranny and injustice. Mortified and disgusted^ we 
are ready to disclaim affinity with a race in whom we discover no 
indications of those powerful energies; those expansive feelings 
of justice and humanity, which it is the pride of our national 
faith to identify with the air we breathe ; but which it should 
be the part of more enlightened patriotism to ascribe to the 
benignant influence of truth and liberty. 

In referring to the life of Anne Boleyn, it is scarcely possible 
not to become aware of our obligations to knowledge and cul- 
ture; and of the inseparable connection between the interests of 
morality and the cause of civil and religious freedom. It is 
worthy of remark; that Henry; however sanguinary and despotic; 
was not more unprincipled than contemporary princeS; or less 
esteemed than his immediate predecessors. Of the insurrections 
that occasionally disturbed his tranquillity; there were scarcely 
any that originated in generous indignation or patriotic energy : 
the same people who acquiesced without repugnance in the immo- 
lation of Edmund de la PolC; and tacitly approved the uncon- 
stitutional murder of Buckingham; scrupled not to invade the 
rights of property if they clashed with their favourate pursuits;* 
or to violate the laws of hospitality whenever their passions 
were excited by cupidity or prejudice. In condemning the 
hypocrisy and cruelty of the monarch; it is impossible not to 
stigmatize the corruption and baseness of the people ; and if 

* In, 1514, the citizens of London sallied forth with shovels and 
spades, and breaking down the enclosures of garden ground, in the 
villages of Hoxton, Hackney, and Islington, converted them to a field 
of archery. See also, in Godwin's History of Henry the Eighth, an 
account of their disorderly behaviour in 1517, on what was vulgarly 
called Evil May Day. 



EDUCATION OF HENRY VIII. 21 

the despotism of Henry provoke execration^ the submission of 
his subjects must equally excite contempt. During the greater 
part of his reign, it is notorious, that he coveted and possessed 
popularity in a degree seldom equalled by the most meritorious 
princes : this flattering homage he owed not to the wisdom of 
his laws, or the splendour of his achievements, but to social 
instincts and personal accomplishments, to a certain chivalrous 
gallantry of carriage, unbounded magnificence, measureless pro- 
digality, and ostentatious afiability ; above all, perhaps to the 
address with which, like a skilful actor, he rendered his own 
vanity and egotism subservient to the gratification of popular 
taste. Having mounted the throne at the age of eighteen, Henry 
possessed, in his youth alone, a powerful attraction ; and it was 
a circumstance highly favourable to his prosperity, that in him 
were reconciled the opposing factions of York and Lancaster, 
and in him revived the genuine royalty of the English crown- 
It is well known, that Henry had received an education 
superior to what was then usually bestowed on princes: he 
spoke and wrote with fluency in the French and Latin languages, 
understood music, was addicted to the study of theology, and, 
above all, passionately devoted to Thomas Aquinas ; but it was 
by more elegant and more popular accomplishments that he 
engaged the affections of his subjects : he loved music, played 
on several instruments, and was even occasionally a composer ; 
he danced with incomparable agility ; and in hunting, hawking, 
and shooting, constantly exhibited his spirit and activity ; but, 
above all, he jousted with skill ; and to excel in this manly exer- 
cise, was at once to announce pretensions to strength and 
courage, to evince a noble emulation with renowned heroes, and 
challenge by anticipation the honours of military fame. To 



22 CHARACTER OF CATHERINE OF ARRAGON. 

enhance tlie value of these advantages, Henry was, confessedly, 
the handsomest man in his court; and, by his marriage with 
Catherine of Arragon, gave to the people a queen lovely in per- 
son and in mind, of exemplary prudence and virtue, and truly 
, gentle and feminine in her manners. 

During a residence of several years in England, Catherine 
had been endeared to the people by her unaffected piety and 
benevolence : and as, like Henry, she possessed considerable 
learning, she cordially co-operated in his liberal patronage of 
literature. Educated in the decorous court of Ferdinand and 
Isabella, she appears not to have ever relished the boisterous 
amusements and convivial spirit of the English nobility ; but at 
this period she betrayed nothing like rigour or austerity ; and 
whilst the gravity of her deportment tempered the exuberant 
vivacity of Henry's manners, she evinced a tenderness and sen- 
sibility that irresistibly engaged his affections. Six years of 
seniority had rather increased than diminished her attractions ; 
nor can it be doubted, that, during the early part of her mar- 
riage, she held an undivided empire in her husband's heart. It 
was, therefore, with a natural and amiable pride, that Henry 
associated this queen in his coronation, of which the most inde- 
fatigable chronicler* of the age has left the following lively 
picture : 

" If I should declare what pain, labour, and diligence, the 
taylors, embroiderers, and goldsmiths took, both to make and 
devise garments for lords, ladies, knights, and esquires, and also 
for decking, trapping, and adorning of coursers, gennets, palfreys, 
— it were too long to rehearse ; but for a surety, more rich, nor 

-» Hall. 



CORONATION FESTIVITIES. 23 

more strange^ nor more curious works, hath not been seen, than 
were prepared against this coronation. 

"On the 21st day of this month of June, the King came 
from Greenwich to the Tower, over London Bridge, and so by 
Grace Church, with whom came many a well-apparelled gentle- 
man, but in especiall the Duke of Buckingham, which had a 
goune all of goldsmith's work, very costly, and there the King 
rested till Saturday next ensuing. 

" Friday the twenty and two day of June, everything being 
in a readiness for his coronation, his Grace, with the Queen, 
being in the Tower of London, made there Knightes of the 
Bathe, to the number of twenty and four, with all the observ- 
ances and ceremonies to the same belonging. 

"And the morrow following, being Saturday, the 23d 
day of the said month, his Grace, with the Queen, departed 
from the Tower through the city of London, against whose 
coming, the streets where his Grace should pass were hanged 
with tapistrie and clothe of Arras. And the great part of 
the south side of Chepe, with cloth of gold, and some part of 
Cornhill also. And the streets railed and barred on the one side 
from over against Grace Church, unto Bread Street, in Cheap- 
side, where every occupation stood in their liveries in order, be- 
ginning with base and mean occupations, and so ascending to the 
worshipful craftes ; highest and lastly stood the Mayor with the 
Aldermen. The goldsmiths' stalls, unto the end of the Old 
Change, being replenished with virgins in white, with branches 
of white wax : the priests and clerks in rich copes, with crosses 
and censers of silver, with censing his Grace and the Queen also 
as they passed. 

" The features of his body, his goodly personage, his amia- 



24 CORONATION FESTIVITIES. 

ble visage, princely countenance^ witli the noble qualities of his 
royale estate, to every man known, needeth no rehearsal, con- 
sidering that for lack of cunning I cannot express the gifts of 
grace and of naturQ^hat God hath endowed him withal : yet, 
partly to describe his apparel, it is to be noted, his Grace ware 
in his uppermost apparel a robe of crimson velvet furred with 
ermine, his jacket or coat of raised gold, the placard embroidered 
with diamond rubies, emerandes, great pearls, and other rich 
stones, a great banderike* aboute his neck of great balasses.f 
The trapper of his horse, damask gold, with a deep purfell of 
ermyns : his knights and esquires for his body in crimson velvet ; 
and all the gentlemen, with other of his chapel, and all his offi- 
cers and household servants were apparelled in scarlet. The 
barons of the Five Portes bare the canopy, or clothe of estate. 
For to recite unto you the great estates by name, the order of 
their going, the number of the lords, spiritual and temporal, 
knights, esquires, and gentlemen, and of their costly and rich 
apparel, of several devises and fashions ; who tooke up his horse 
best, or who was richest besene, it would ask long time, and yet 
I should omit many things, and fail of the number, for they 
were very many : wherefore I pass over ; but this I dare well say, 
there was no lack or scarcity of cloth of gold, cloth of silver 
broderie, or goldsmiths' work." 

The chronicler then mentions the procession of the nine chil- 
dren of honour, each mounted on a steed decorated with the 
name and arms of a province of the king's dominions; an 
ostentatious display, derived from the brilliant era of Edward 
the Third, since in addition to Cornwall and Wales, it assumed 
the fictitious sovereignty of Normandy, Gaseony, Guienne, and 

* Collar. f Rubies. 



PROCESSION. 26 

Anjou. The Queen^s retinue appears to have been equally 
magnificent, and far more attractive. — " In a litter richly orna- 
mented, sat Catherine, borne by two white palfreys trapped in 
cloth of gold; her person aj^parelled in white satin embroidered; 
her long black hair hanging down her back, beautiful and goodly 
to behold; and on her head a coronal, set with many rich orient 
stones. 

" Her ladies followed in chariots, a sort of car containing six 
persons, and the quality of each was designated by the gold or 
silver tissue habiliments; and with much joy and honour they 
came to Westminster, where was high preparation made, as well 
for the coronation, as for the solemn feasts and jousts to be had 
and done.'^* 

'^What should I speak,^^ continues the chronicler, '^of the 
sumptuous, fine, and delicate meats prepared for this high and 
honourable coronation, provided for as well in the parties beyond 
the seas, as in many and sundry places within this realm, where 
God so abundantly hath sent such plenty and foison ? or of the 
honourable order of the services ; the clean handling and break- 
ing of meats ; the ordering of the dishes, with the plentiful 
abundance ; so that none of any estate being there did lack, nor 
no honourable and worshipful person unfeasted?" 

•^ At the dinner the King's estate was on the rigkt hand, and the 
Queen's on the left ; the cupboard of nine stages. Their noble per- 
sonages being set, at the bringing in of the first course, the trumpet 
sounded, and in came the Duke of Buckingham mounted on a courser 
richly trapped and embroidered, and the Lord Steward likewise, on a 
horse trapped, came in cloth of gold riding before the service, which 
was sumptuous, with many subtleties, strange devices, with several 
poesies, and many dainty dishes. 



26 JOUSTS AND MASQUES. 

From the vivacity of his descriptions, it might he supposed 
that the writer had himself been one of the enviable beings 
admitted to that unparalleled banquet, which he pronounces to 
have been more Tionourahle " than that of the great Caesar, whom 
so many historiographers set out and magnify/' Jousts and 
masques succeeded; and in these the populace had their full 
share of enjoyment. It may, perhaps, be doubted, whether the 
rare and excellent device of the castle, invested by a silvery 
fountain, and embellished with a flowing vine, imparted half the 
delight inspired by rivulets of claret and malmsey spouted from 
the hideous lips of some sphinx-like monster. The supreme 
object of attraction appears ta have been a mountainous castle, 
dragged slowly along, in which sat a lady, who, under the im- 
posing name of Pallas, displayed a crystal shield; and with 
many grimaces presented six of her scholars to the King, as 
challengers in the combat. To this redoubtable personage was 
opposed one equally sublime, the goddess Diana, in whose be- 
hoof appeared a troop of foresters, who, breathing from their 
mellow-toned horn a sylvan strain, ushered in the appropriate 
pageant of a park, within whose chequered pales of green and 
white were living deer ; but sad was the fate of these victims to 
pleasure, who were no sooner allowed to escape from their enclo- 
sure than they were chased by hounds, attacked, and killed 
almost in the Queen's presence. Such was the refinement, such 
the humanity of our forefathers ! 

In justice to Henry, it must be admitted, that he was not 
without capacities for better things ; and that he often displayed 
considerable address in animating and polishing those puerile 
amusements, in which he was required to participate. At this 
juvenile period, the prominent feature of his character was 



RUNNING AT THE llLXc;. 27 

vanity, but of that inoffensive cast, apparently springing from 
exuberance of good humour, which often assumes the expres- 
sion of benevolence. To outshine his companions was the first 
object, to delight them the next ; like an actor, he courted popu- 
lar applause, and in the presence of ambassadors or other dis- 
tinguished foreigners, this solicitude became more strikingly 
apparent; but in all his petty struggles for pre-eminence, he 
secured the good will and inspired the enthusiasm of the people. 

One day an engagement having been made by some of his 
courtiers to run at the ring for a wager, the King declared his 
willingness to enter the lists with six companions, the prize being 
promised to him who, within a certain space of time, should 
most often reach the goal. At the hour appointed, the ambas- 
sadors, the court, the ladies, repaired, with the pomp and cere- 
mony usual on such occasions, to the barrier where at the sound 
of the trumpet appeared the King and his martial train, each 
mounted on a mettled courser, clothed in purple velvet and cloth 
of gold : the royal steed was distinguished by his embroidered 
drapery, and the gallant plume of feathers pendant from his 
head, and which rose ambitiously to the saddle of the rider. 
The signal being given, the coursers flew like lightning : each 
cavalier ran twelve courses : the youthful monarch struck the 
ring five times, and finally bore away the prize in triumj^h, 
abandoning the ornaments of his charger to the applauding 
multitude. In another public festival at Greenwich, the King 
challenged all comers to fight with the target; and afterwards 
exhibited still greater prowess in hurling the spear : nor did the 
indefatigable prince desist till he had achieved equal honour with 
the two-handed sword. 

In the present advanced state of civilization, the passion that 



2^ THE TOURNAMENT. 

once existed for the fatiguing pleasures of tlie tilting-field miglit 
appear incredible, Ibut for the reflection that this exercise was 
reserved exclusively for men of gentle blood, and that it formed 
a strong and impassable line of demarcation between the higher 
and lower orders of the community. In the martial exercise of 
fencing, the young cavalier acquired courtesy and dignity, 
mingled with that intrepid martial deportment so well calculated 
to impress respect and to inspire sentiments of awe and defer- 
ence ; nor was this personal distinction altogether so chimerical 
as might at first sight be supposed, since the accomplished 
j ouster, who, under his cumbrous weight of armour, could skil- 
fully poise the lance or wield the ponderous spear, must unques- 
tionably have possessed a degree of strength and physical force 
far beyond the ordinary standard of bravery and vigour ; whilst 
the consciousness of high pretensions and still higher respon- 
sibility could not but rouse a desperate courage, which prompted 
to deeds of unconquerable heroism and deathless fame. With 
impressions such as these, it is not surprising that a single- 
handed knight should sometimes perform prodigies of valour 
which seem almost to authenticate the legends of chivalry, and 
realize the visions of romance. 

Even to the citizens and minor gentry, who were not allowed 
to share in the perils and honours of jousting, these exhibitions 
afforded a rich and inexhaustible source of entertainment. No 
sooner was a tournament announced, than the city, the court, 
and the country appeared to receive a simultaneous movement. 
The tilt-yard was gravelled for the combatants ; a theatre or a 
booth was erected for the spectators. The steeds were trained 
and caparisoned; whilst goldsmiths, embroiderers, and various 
artisans were required to furnish articles of finery and magni- 



THE TOURNAMENT. 29 

ficence, invention was racked to supply apposite mottoes, poesies, 
and devices. "When the eventful day arrived, the most lively 
interest was created for the respective challengers, or defend- 
ants; and in the true spirit of speculation, bets were laid on 
the issue of each succeeding contest. A scrutinizing glance was 
cast on the balconies, in which the ladies presided, on whose de- 
meanour shrewd conjectures were hazarded respecting their pri- 
vate sentiments ', and often were the mysteries of the heart eli- 
cited by a portentous scarf, or symbolic glove.* Scandal echoed 
the whisper of malice, and notoriety might thus, by some way- 
ward chance, be forced on many who never sighed for fame. It 
was for veteran cavaliers to sit in judgment on the prowess of 
each adventurous knight, and to prompt or correct the decisions 
which preceded the distribution of the prizes ; but for the fair 
dame who presided over the day was exclusively reserved the 
privilege of bestowing the meed of praise. To win this envied 
distinction, men of rank and talents frequently expended a 
year's revenue only to strut about one little day, exulting even 
in the plaudits of the citizens whom they despised, re-echoed by 
the shouts of the heralds and the congratulations of the ladies. 
In the tournament and the masque which usually followed, 
princes and peers exhibited, like actors, before the people, for whose 
accommodation booths and benches were erected ; nor did noble 
and royal dames disdain occasionally to leave their embroidered 
cushions J and dance,"!" and even act in a pantomimic style, before 

* For those who would become acquainted with the manners of that 
age, Dr. Nott's Life of Surrey " offers a fund of information and enter- 
tainment." 

f In this manner Catherine, when Princess of Wales, had danced at 
Westminster. See Leland's Colloctanoa. 
3* 



80 ROBIN HOOD. 

an immense crowd of vulgar spectators. The habits and manners 
which during some centuries prevailed in Europe, however arti- 
ficial or preposterous, served to fill the vacuity incident to uncul- 
tivated minds, and to relieve the coarse or languid features of 
domestic life. It is well known, that every knight was supposed 
to be devoted to some lady, for whose smiles he fought and con- 
quered, and for whose charms he exacted allegiance. In the 
time of Henry the Eighth, the names of mistress and servant 
were often admitted and exchanged by individuals previous to 
any personal intercourse, and between whom no real attach- 
ment ever subsisted. It cannot be doubted, but that this inflated 
style of adoration, though well understood to mean nothing, 
might often have been adopted when the passion was more 
genuine than the object was legitimate. The invention of de- 
vices, favours, emblems, with their concomitants of masques 
and disguises, the allegorical personifications and melo-dramatic 
exhibition borrowed from romance, must have been singularly 
well adapted to facilitate intrigues and to conceal them from de- 
tection. But, whatever might be the errors or discrepancies be- 
longing to this Gothic system of manners, it obtained equally 
in France, in Italy, and Spain, and formed among the European 
nobility a sort of fellowship not dissimilar to the brotherhood 
that subsisted in religious orders. 

It was not only in jousting, that Henry presented himself 
before the public eye. With an affability that reflects equal 
credit on his good humour and sagacit}^, he adopted the preju- 
dices, and condescended to the local or traditionary customs, of 
the people. Not a festival occurred, but was celebrated at court 
according to primitive usage : sometimes, in a vein of frolic, the 
king assumed the garb of Robin Hood, the popular outlaw, and 



MANNERS OF THE COURT. 81 

in that chosen character once surprised the modest Catherine 
and her demure ladies, not without creating momentary sensa- 
tions of terror and confusion. On May-day, it was his pride to 
rise with the hirk, and, with a train of courtiers splendidly 
attired in white and silver, to hasten to the woods, from whence 
he bore home the fragrant bough in triumph. When he quitted 
Greenwich for Windsor, or the sweet sylvan retreat of Havering 
Bower,''' he hawked and hunted with the neighbouring gentry, 
and beguiled his sedentary hours by playing on the flute or the 
virginal, setting songs to music, or inventing ballets ; nor must 
it be forgotten, that he even composed two sacred masses, an 
event which his courtly chronicler records with becoming reve- 
rence. 

The regularity and decorum generally established in modern 
courts, had then no existence. Amidst the most ostentatious 
pomp the distinctions of rank were often discarded, and during 
certain public festivals, the people seemed, by prescriptive right, 
to enjoy perfect equality with their sovereign. f 

* In Essex. 

f On May-day, when Henry was returning to Greenwich from his 
annual expedition to the woods, he met on the road the pageant of a 
ship -with outspread sails, the master of which, saluting the king and 
his noble company, announced himself to be a mai-iner, come from 
many a strange port, to see if any deeds of arms were to be done in 
the country, that he might report them to other realms. A herald de- 
manding the name of the ship, the pretended mariner replied, " She is 
called Fame, and is laden with good renoum.'' Then said the herald, 
" If you will bring your ship into the bay of Hardiness, you must double 
the point of Gentleness, and there I shall send a company that will 
meddle with your merchandise." Here Henry interposing exclaimed, 
*' Sithens renown is their merchandise, let us buy it if we can." Then 



9.9. 



ETIQUETTE. 



It had been an object of solicitude with Henry the Seventh, 
to establish in his court a regular system of etiquette, and to 
create for every circumstance connected with his domestic life, 
a certain degree of interest and sympathy in the people. By the 
advice of his mother, the celebrated Countess of Derby, certain 
ordinances were promulgated, regulating the ceremonial to be 
observed in the christening of a prince or princess, and enforcing 
the old custom imposed on a queen-consort, previous to the birth 
of a royal infant, of publicly withdrawing to her chamber.^ 

Although the Countess survived the accession of Henry VIII. 
but a few months, her memory was still held in veneration ] nor 
during the dynasty of the Tudors, were her laws permitted to be 
impugned. In conformity, therefore, with the old custom, Ca- 
therine, in December (1510), took to her chamber at Richmond 

the ship shot forth a peal of guns, and sailed before the King's com- 
pany, crowded with flags and banners, till it came to the Tilt-yard. 

* In Leland's Collectanea, we find the following ordinances made by 
Margaret Countess of Derby, from a manuscript in the Harleian library : 
— "Her highness's pleasure being understood in what chamber she will 
be delivered, the same must be hanged with rich cloth of arras, sydes, 
rowffe, windowes and all, excepte one window, which must be hanged 
so as she may have light when it pleaseth her ; then must there be set 
a royale bed, and the flore layed all over and over with carpets, and a 
cup-borde covered with the same suyte that the chambre is hanged 
withal." — On entering the great chamber, the Queen was permitted to 
exercise her own discretion whether she would sit or stand in receiving 
wine and spices. 

When the Queen had once entered, all individuals of the other sex 
were formally excluded: none but ladies or female attendants were 
permitted to approach her presence ; women alone performed the func- 
tions of panterers, sewers, and butlers ; and the men who assisted passed 
not bej^ond the vestibule leading to the apartment. 



CATHERINE AT RICHMOND. 33 

rather than "Westminster, wishing, perhaps, to escape in part the 
publicity attached to this ceremony, which, however embellished 
by pomp and splendour, was calculated to impress the mind with 
melancholy sentiments.* The birth of a prince on new-year's 

* Of this ceremony, as performed by Elizabeth, the wife of Henry 
VII., the following description is preserved in Leland's Collectanea. 

"Upon All-allow Even the queene tooke her chamber at Westminster, 
gretly accompanyed with ladies and gentilwomen; that is to say, the 
king's mother, the Duchesse of Norfolk, andmany others; ha\ingbefore her 
the greate parte of the nobles of this royalme present at this parliament. 
She was led by the Earl of Oxinford and the Earl of Derby. The Re- 
verend Father in God, the bishop of Excester, song the mass in pontifi- 
calibus, and after Agnus Dei. Then the queene was led as before. 
The Earles of Shrewsby and of Kente hylde the towel when the queene 
toke her rights, and the torches were holden by knights, and after mass 
accompanyed as before ; when she was commen into hir grete chamber 
she stode under her cloth of estate, then thir was ordered a voide of 
espices and sweet wine : that doon, my lord the queene's chamberlain, 
in very goode wordes, desired, in the queen's name, the people thir 
present to pray God to send her the goode houre ; and so she departed 
to her inner chamber, which was hanged and seyled with riche clothe 
of blue arras, with fleur-de-lys of gold. "In that chambre was a riche 
bed and palliet, the whiche' palliet had a marvellous riche canope of 
gold, with velvet pall, garnished with riche red roses ; also there was 
an autar well furnyshed witli reliques and a cup-borde of nine stages 
well and richly garnished. Then she recommended her to the good 
praiers of the lords and my lord her chamberland drew the Travis ; from 
thenceforth no manner of officer came into the chambre, but ladies and 
gentlewomen after the old custome. — A few days after this ceremony, 
however, a French nobleman of the highest rank was, by special favour, 
admitted to an audience of Her Highness, with whom he found only the 
Countess of Dei^by and the Queen-dowager Elizabeth." 



34 THE HEIR. 

day, afforded a pretext for exhibitions of a more exhilarating 
aspect. 

The untimely fate of this heir of York and Lancaster might 
invite the moralist to expatiate on, the vanity of human expecta- 
tions, hut that the theme is already exhausted, and that the 
mournful lesson it inculcates is too painfully impressed by every 
page of human experience. From the moment of his birth, 
when Catherine with a mother's pride presented him as a new- 
year's gift to her delighted lord, he had been an object of almost 
idolatrous love and homage.* Innumerable benedictions were 
showered on his unconscious head, and the prayers of a generous 
people unavailingly offered for his health and prosperity. Among 
the feasts and festivals in honour of his birth, was one, of which 
the memory long survived the term of his ephemeral existence, 
and in which may be discerned some faint indications of im- 
proving taste. f 

'^ The prince expired on the 22d of February. " The King," says 
Hall, " took this sad chance wondrous wisely; and, the more to com- 
fort the Queen, he dissembled the matter, and made no great mourn- 
ing outwardly; but the Queen, like a natural woman, made much 
lamentation." • 

•f "At Westminster," says Hall, "solemn jousts were proclaimed 
in honor of the Queen ; and on the twelfth of February, the King and 
his three aids or supporters, Sir Thomas Knevet, the Earl of Devon- 
shire, and Sir Edward Neville, entered the hall, each armed cap-a- 
pee, with a fictitious name quartered on his shield. To the Earl was as- 
signed the allegorical appellation of Bo7i Vouloir ; Sir Thomas Knevet 
was designated by Bon Espoir ; and Sir Edward Neville by Vaillant 
Desir ; whilst the King, the universal challenger and enterpriser, 
could be nothing less than Coeur Loyal. By a fantastical device, 
the tablet in which the names of these quatre chevaliers de la fortt 
were inscribed, was suspended on an artificial tree, to which the fol- 



PROCESSION. 35 

'^On the morrow, after dinner/' says the chronicler, "the 
company assembled in the hall, when, at the sound of the 
trumpet, many a nobleman and gentleman vaulted on their 
steeds, after whom followed certain lords, mounted on palfreys, 
trapped in cloth of gold ; many gentlemen on foot, clad in russet 
sattin, and yeomen in russet damask, scarlet hose, and yellow 
caps; then issued the King from his pavilion of cloth of gold." 
His mettled courser loaded with the same gorgeous drapery, 
and on his gilded chafrons nodded a graceful plume spangled 
with gold. The King's three aids appeared in equal state ; each, 
armed cap-a-pee, sat beneath a crimson pavilion. Next followed 
in procession the nine pages or children of honour, each gal- 
lantly bestriding a palfrey, of which the housings were embroi- 
dered with words and poesies. Then entered, from the other 
side of the field, on the part of the defenders. Sir Charles Bran- 
don on horseback, habited as a religious recluse, who, unhe- 
ralded by trumpet or minstrel, preferred to the Queen his lowly 
suit that she would be pleased to allow him to run in her pre- 
sence : the boon was no sooner granted, than, eagerly divesting 
himself of his robe, he exposed to view a complete set of armour ; 
and galloping to the tilt-end of the field, was instantly surrounded 
by his supporters. During this interval entered singly the 

lowing scroll was appended : ' The noble lady Renown, considering 

the good and gracious fortune which it hath pleased God to send her 
dear and best beloved cousins, the King and Queen of England and of 
France, that is to say, the birth of a young prince, hath sent eight 
knights, born in her realm ; that is to say, Cceur Noble, Vaillant Desir, 
Bon Vouloir, et Joymx Penser, to furnish and coply the certain articles 
as followeth; And forasmuch as, after the order and honor of arms, it 
is not lawful for any man to enterprise arms in so high a presence with- 
out his stock and lineage be of nobles descended.' " 



36 PROCESSION. 

esquire^ young Henry Guilford^ clad in gold and silver tissue, 
but completely enveloped in a pageant resembling a castle ; its 
glittering walls chequered with, mystic rhymes, invoking blessings 
on the royal pair : behind him came his men, all dressed in the 
same livery of silver tissue, who, having made obeisance to the 
Queen, passed to the field. Then followed the Marquis of Dorset, 
and his brother-in-law. Sir Thomas Boleyn, both habited as pil- 
grims from St. Jago's shrine, with a train of sable-suited atten- 
dants. The procession was closed by several lords in armour, 
mounted on steeds superbly ornamented. Amidst this martial 
pomp, appeared pageants of most ludicrous and fantastic incon- 
gruity. Arrows were encased in crimson damask ; and, amongst 
other articles was, a silver greyhound, bearing a tree of pome- 
granates, by whose branches it was almost concealed from view. 
At length the trumpets sounded to the charge; the knights 
spurred their steeds ; lance encountered iance. From the balconies 
the ladies waved their handkerchiefs, and the concourse of spec- 
tators gazed intently on the combat. As usual, the royal party 
prevailed, and to the King was awarded the first prize : the 
crowd dispersed, and Henry decorously attended his devout con- 
sort to vespers. But not thus were to terminate the pleasures 
of this laborious day. After supper, the King and his court 
repaired to the Whitehall, where a spectacle was prepared of 
which the lower orders were allowed to participate. An inter- 
lude was first performed by the children of the chapel ; after 
this, the King, according to ancient usage, conferred on the Irish 
Chief, O'Neale, the honours of knighthood. Then was heard a 
symphony; the minstrels played, and the lords and ladies 
danced -, and Henry, observing how much this exhibition interest- 
ed the spectators, stole away to prepare for them a still higher 



THE DANCE. 37 

gratification. And now was attention arrested by a flourish of 
trumpets : and lo ! an enormous machine was wheeled into the 
hall, completely enveloped in cloth of arras. At this porten- 
tous sight curiosity became intense ; when a cavalier suddenly 
issuing from the pageant, represented to the Queen, that in a 
certain garden of pleasure, there was a golden arbour, wherein 
were lords and ladies much desirous to show pastime to the 
Queen and ladies, if they might be licensed so to do. Permis- 
sion being granted, the cloth was removed, and discovered a 
beautiful garden, in which were trees of hawthorn, eglantine, 
and rosiers, vines and gilliflowers, all wrought of gold. In an 
arbour appeared six ladies, all dressed in silver and satin, on 
whose heads were bonnets open at the four quarters, and out- 
frised with flat-gold of damask. The orellets were of roses, 
wreathed on lampas^ douche so that the gold showed through 
the lampas doucke. In this garden also was the King, robed 
in purple satin, embroidered with letters of gold, composing his 
assumed name of Coeur Loyal. The gentlemen having joined 
the ladies, they danced together, whilst the pageant was removed 
to the extremity of the hall, for the purpose of receiving them 
when the ballet should be ended ; but the rude people (as Hall 

* Of this passage the following explanation has been suggested by 
an author justly celebrated for the ingenuity, the erudition, and good 
taste that have uniformly directed his reseax'ches. In the Flemish 
language, lampas signifies a fine transparent linen or crape, through 
which the gold on the orellets would appear transparent. It is very 
probable that this was an article of commerce, imported from Flanders 
in the time of Henry the Eighth. Lampas in counting-house ortho- 
graphy, is no great corruption, and the above crape may therefore be 
simply, Douche [Dutch] ; lampas douche being an error of the press. 

4 



38 THE TOUENAMENT. 

calls them) ran to the pageant, which, either from curiosity or 
cupidity, was presently demolished, and, to escape their violence, 
the royal and noble performers found it necessary to pluck off the 
golden letters attached to their robes, of which one man picked 
up enough to produce three pounds from the goldsmith. 

It is worthy of remark, that the foregoing description of the 
tournament is almost the prose transcript of the beautiful poetical 
sketch preserved by Chaucer, in his fable of the Flower and the 
Leaf, and exquisitely embellished by Dryden ; and this exact cor- 
respondence proves the conformity of manners which prevailed 
in the age of Edward the Third, and Henry the Eighth. 

Before the rest 
The trumpets issued in white mantles dress'd ; 
A numerous troop, and all their heads around 
With chaplets green of cerrial-oak were crown'd ; 
And at each trumpet was a banner bound, 
"Which, waving in the wind, display'd at large 
Their master's coat of arms, and knightly charge. 
Broad were, the banners, and of snowy hue, 
A purer web the silk- worm never drew. 
The chiefs about their necks the scutcheons wore, 
With orient pearls and jewels powder'd o'er; 
Broad were their collars too, and every one 
Was set about with many a costly stone. 
Next these of kings at arms a goodly train 
In proud array came prancing o'er the plain : 
Their cloaks were cloth of silver mix'd with gold, 
And garlands green around their temples roll'd ; 
Rich crowns were on their royal scutcheons placed, 
With sapphires, diamonds, and with rubies graced: 
And as the trumpets their appearance made, 
So these in habits were alike array'd ; 



THE TOURNAMENT. 39 

But with a pace more sober and more slow ; 
And twenty, rank in rank, they rode a-row. 
The pursuivants came next, in number more ; 
And like the heralds each his scutcheon bore : 
Clad in white velvet all their troop they led. 
With each an oaken chaplet on his head. 

Nine royal knights in equal rank succeed, 
Each warrior mounted on a fiery steed ; 
In golden armour glorious to behold; 
The rivets of their arms were nail'd with gold. 
Their surcoats of white ermine fur were made. 
With cloth of gold between, that cast a glittering shade ; 
The trappings of their steeds were of the same ; 
The golden fringe even set the ground on flame, 
And drew a precious trail : a crown divine 
Of laurels did about their temples twine. 

Three henchmen were for every knight assign'd 
All in rich livery clad, and of a kind : 
White velvet, but unshorn, for cloaks they wore. 
And each within his hand a truncheon bore : 
The foremost held a helm of rare device ; 
A prince's ransom would not pay the price. 
The second bore the buckler of his knight ; 
The third of cornel-wood a spear upright. 
Headed with piercing steel, and polish'd bright. 
Like to their lords their equipage was seen. 
And all their foreheads crown'd with garlands green. 

And after these came, arm'd with spear and shield, 
A host so great as cover'd all the field. 
And all their foreheads, like the knights before, 
With laurels ever-green were shaded o'er, 
Or oak, or other leaves of lasting kind. 
Tenacious of the stem, and firm against the wind. 



40 MANNERS OF TPIE ENGLISH. 

Some in their hands, besides the lance and shield, 
The boughs of woodbine or of hawthorn held, 
Or branches for their mystic emblems took. 
Of palm, of laurel, or of cerrial-oak. 
Thus marching to the trumpet's lofty sound. 
Drawn in two lines adverse, they wheel'd around, 
And in the middle meadow took their ground. 
Among themselves the tourney they divide. 
In equal squadrons ranged on either side. 
Then turn'd their horses' heads, and man to man. 
And steed to steed opposed, the jousts began. 
They lightly set their lances in the rest. 
And, at the sign, against each other press'd. 

In tracing this approximation of manners and amusements 
under the Plantagenets and tlie TudorS; we are naturally tempted 
to inquire whether civilization had retrograded or advanced, was 
stationary or progressive ? After a lapse of more than two cen- 
turies, the age of Edward the Third continued to be quoted as 
the ne phis ultra of English glory ; and to reclaim his triumphs 
was still the pretext of ambitious princes, and the object of the 
credulous people. Unquestionably, the nation had increased in 
wealth, and the court improved in luxury. The royal cupboard 
of plate had added three stages to its former dimensions. Nobles 
and priests were robed in cloth of gold; cavaliers and their 
steeds exhibited equal magnificence ; but where was the elegant 
gallantry of the Black Prince, or the mingled courtesy and 
dignity of his illustrious father ? Music and dancing, masquing 
and revelry, filled the palace ; but the minstrels of the lay had 
departed ; nor was there found another Chaucer to sustain the 
honour of the English muse. To scholars and wits it was occa- 
sionally permitted to share the great man's hospitality; whilst 



MANNERS OF THE ENGLISH. 41 

buffoons were constantly and fondly protected : every splendid 
or luxurious household had its fool or je&tev ; and of all the 
king's officers this should seem to have been the privileged fa- 
vourite. But it must also be remembered, that in the age of 
Edward and his successor, Wickliffe reasonedj whilst Chaucer 
sung. The germs of the Reformation sprung forth ; and but for 
the oppression of the clergy, and the superstition of the people, 
the conflicts and the triumphs of Luther had been gloriously 
anticipated. In both ages authority was opposed to reason, and 
bigotry to humanity : in both ages the advocates for free inquiry 
were consigned to dungeons, and the champions of religious 
liberty committed to the flames. If, in 1325, the bones of 
Wickliffe* were exhumed forty years after death, Hun's corpse 
was, in 1514, in like manner, dragged from the tomb to be burnt 
with living heretics ; but it should be remembered, that Wickliffe 
and his followers were protected by the government against the 
bishops, and that the bishops were supported by the people. 
Under Henry the Eighth, the reformers, oppressed by the 
government, made zealous friends and found strenuous supporters 
in all classes of the community ; a circumstance which distinctly 
proves that an important change had gradually been produced in 

* The bones of WicklifiFe were taken up and burnt forty-one years 
after death. In the reign of Henry the Eighth, Hun, a merchant- 
tailor, was committed to prison by the Bishop of London, on the charge 
of having WickliflFe's Bible in his possession : after his death, other ar- 
ticles of heresey being exhibited against him, his corpse was committed 
to the flames. This iniquitous transaction shook the credit of the 
clergy more than Luther's invectives ! In France such sacrilege was 
frequently committed, under the imposing name of ecclesiastical 
authority. 
4 * 



42 REIGN OF THE TUDORS. 

the national character. Fortunately, the encroachments of the 
clergy on the laity had aroused that mighty, that invincible spirit 
of freedom, before which the strong arm of power skrinksinto 
feebleness, and tyranny confesses the claim of justice. In the 
school of suffering, the people had been taught to think and to 
act, to exercise the prerogative of reason, to assert the rights of 
humanity ; the corruptions inherent in the old system were no 
longer to be concealed from suspicion or protected from contempt. 
The roots were already loosened, before the impetuous storm 
assailed the degenerate branches. Nor was it for the church 
alone that an eventful crisis was impending. In many existing 
customs and institutions might be detected symptoms of decay ; 
the forerunners of approaching dissolution : the circumstances 
originally concurring in their formation had ceased to operate. 
"What had once been necessary, was no longer useful ; discord 
had succeeded to harmony ; universal evil had grown out of tem- 
porary or partial good. To this class belonged the system of 
chivalry, so admirably adapted to a feudal and military age, but 
obviously misplaced in a more polished and regularly-organized 
society. 

Under the Tudors, the passion for glory, coeval with the birth 
of chivalry, had degenerated into a fondness for pomp and 
pageantry; and even in their exterior, the slashed sleeves, and 
nodding plumes, betrayed a foppery unknown to the heroes of 
Poictiers and Cressy. The predilection for jousting had also an 
inevitable tendency to exalt physical above moral qualities, to 
give undue value to the accidental distinctions of birth and for- 
tune, to challenge for beauty and strength exclusive homage and 
supremacy, to expend on the short-lived season of youth all the 
treasures of human life, and leave nothing but selfish regrets, 
or sensuality, or superstition, for unhonoured a.ge. 



STATE OF THE CLERGY. 43 

In the clergy the discrepancy created by ancient usages and 
nascent principles was less open to observation. It was the pri- 
vilege of their order, that men of talents, without regard to the 
invidious distinctions of gentle or churlish blood, might aspire to 
dignity and honour. They were allowed to fill the highest offices 
of the state, to supersede hereditary rank, and take place of the 
most illustrious nobility; but the sentiment from which they 
originally derived these privileges had gradually been weakened 
by their incautious abuse of power and wealth, their arrogant 
assumption of authority, and shameless perversion of all moral 
and religious obligations. Penances and pilgrimages were fre- 
quent ; masses and indulgences might be purchased ; monastic 
vows subsisted : but the self-denying spirit, the all-subduing 
enthusiasm that had led myriads to the Holy Sepulchre was ex- 
tinct; the sacred halo of imagination that once encircled the 
shrine of superstition had vanished ; the cloud of ignorance 
alone remained; and there was enough of light to discern the 
surrounding darkness. 

After the revival of letters, the clergy, whatever state they 
assumed in their stalls or chapters, were no longer omnipotent in 
the minds of the people; the beneficent invention of printing 
disseminated that knowledge hitherto engrossed by the great and 
the privileged ; a powerful sympathy was thus created between 
the learned and the vidgar. Man communicated with man ; and 
in this mental collision the energies long dormant were called 
into vigorous activity. Over the elements of the Reformation, 
which emanated from WickliiFc, persecution had vainly exer- 
cised its repelling power : there resided in them an immortal 
essence, a spirit impenetrable to violence, and incapable of an- 
nihilation. By the agency of a poor despised monk they were 



44 SIR THOMAS MORE. 

soon to assume another and more glorious form, to elicit truths 
still more important to the progress of moral and religious im- 
provement : and ultimately to awaken that genuine love of 
justice, liberty, and independence, which can alone form the 
character of a noble and magnanimous people. 

From a cursory glance of Henry^s reign, it will be evident 
that those days of ignorance and despotism were pregnant with 
venality, perfidy, and corruption; nor with the exception of 
the Mores, the Colets, and the Cranmers, shall we easily discover 
among the statesmen or the favourites of his day examples of 
disinterestedness, honour, and probity. Without referring to 
the records of conventual visitation, without appealing to the 
contempt almost universally avowed for monastic drones, or 
glancing at the suspicious reputations of their frail sisters, it 
may be remarked that gaming and other profligate vices had in- 
fected both the court and the city, that the grossest immorality 
prevailed in the country, and that, generally speaking, the age 
of Henry was as little favourable to female modesty as to manly 
patriotism, and equally adverse to liberty and virtue. 

To the era of the Reformation may be traced purer morals 
and more decorous manners. The example of Sir Thomas More's 
family were then no longer singular : female cultivation ceased 
to be rare when learning became the badge of a superior station ; 
the progress of civilization was rapidly accelerated, and in little 
more than the revolution of half a century, those citizens who 
had been accustomed to witness with transports the mummery of 
pageants and tournaments, were capable of relishing dramatic 
compositions ; and, without attending other schools of rhetoric 
and philosophy than the theatres at Bankside and Blackfriars, 
insensibly refined their ideas, and formed their taste, under the 
immortal auspices of Shakspeare. 



CHAPTER 11. 

OF THE DESCENT OF THE BOLEYNES. THE INTRODUCTION OF 

ANN BOLEYNE AT THE FRENCH COURT. 

Sir Geoffrey Boleyne — Sir William Boleyne — The Earl of Surrey — Sir 
Tliomas Boleyne — Anne Bullen — Infancy — The Lady Elizabeth — Fox 
— Wolsey — His Mission to France — His Character — His Rise — War 
-with France— Catherine's Regency — Charles Brandon — Edmund de 
la Pole — His Death — Letter of Catherine of Arragou — Maximilian — 
Battle of Spurs — Letter of Catherine — Wolsey a Bishop — The 
Duchess of Surrey — War with Scotland — Battle of Flodden Field — 
Sir Charles Somerset — Henry's Favourites — A Tournament — The 
Princess Mary affianced to Louis XII. — Anne a Maid of Honour — 
Mary's Followers — The Voyage — The Landing — Cavalcade — Inter- 
view Avith the King — Louis XII. — Mary's Marriage — Her letter to 
Henry — Her attendants dismissed — The Tournament — Death of Louis 
XII. — Mary's Second Marriage — Her Pardon by Henrj^ — Her Domes- 
tic Happiness. 

The family of Bullen, or Boleyne, originally of French extrac- 
tion, was transplanted to England soon after the Norman conquest; 
and having settled in Norfolk continued gradually to extend its 
patrimonial demesnes, and to confirm its pretensions to pure and 
uncontaminated ancestry. During three centuries, however, the 
Boleynes, from father to son, appear to have aimed only at main- 
taining their rank and influence among the provincial gentry, 
till Sir Geoffrey (Bolen), amidst the conflicts of York and Lan- 
caster, exchanged the pastimes of hawking and hunting, for the 

(45) 



46 SIR GEOFFREY BOLEN. 

pursuits of commerce, and having entered the Mercer's Company, 
was, in 1457, advanced to the dignity of Lord Mayor of London, 
and subsequently invested with the titles of knighthood. In 
revolutionary times, hereditary distinctions are often levelled by 
accidental circumstances, and the possession of wealth becomes 
equivalent to power and nobility. The Lord of Hoo* and Hast- 
ings disdained not the alliance of the prosperous merchant, who, 
marrying one of his daughters, became the founder of a house, 
that was soon permitted to claim affinity with the noblest blood 
in the kingdom. Sir Greoffrey appears to have been one of those 
few favoured individuals, who never miss the critical moment 
for taking the tide of fortune ; he continued sedulously to improve 
every opportunity of advancement, and after having given his 
well-portioned daughters to men of birth and consequence,"!" re- 
served for his son an estate fully adequate to the pretensions of 
a noble bride, who was one of the co-heiresses of the great Earl 
of Ormond. J 

In commemorating the singular felicity of this honourable 
citizen, it would be unjust to leave no record of his virtues ; since 
he was not more conspicuous for shrewd sense, and enterprising 
perseverance, than for a munificent spirit, open-hearted liberality 
and manly independence. Not satisfied with having conferred 
blessings on the community in which he lived, he endeared his 
name to posterity by a magnificent bequest of lOOOZ. to the city 

* This title became extinct. 

f Tlie daugMers of Sir Geoffrey Bolen intermarried with the Cheyneys, 
the Heydons, and Fortescues of Norfolk. 

J Thomas Boteler, or Butler, whose ancestors had suffered in the 
Lancastrian cause. See the third chapter. 



SIR WILLIAM BOLEYN. 47 

of London, and a cliaritable donation of 2001. to the poor of Nor- 
folk, his native county.* 

Sir William Boleyn, his son, was equally fortunate and more 
aspiring than his predecessor ; he attached himself to the court, 
and was one of the eighteen knights, whom Richard the Third 
invested with the order of the Bath, at his magnificent corona- 
tion : he was afterwards appointed deputy for the coasts of Nor- 
folk and Sufi"olk. His father-in-law, though an Irish peer, pos- 
sessed exclusively the privilege of sitting in the English House 
of Lords, where he was even allowed to take precedence of 
English barons. Such an alliance must naturally have awakened 
ambitious expectations ; and either by the influence of the earl, 
or his own dexterous management. Sir "William succeeded in 
forming intermarriages with several noble families, by which the 
most brilliant prospects were opened to hisview.f His sanguine 
anticipations must, however, have been more than realized, by 
the subsequent union of his son Thomas with Elizabeth, daughter 
of the Earl of Surrey, a nobleman, in whom high birth was 
exalted by chivalrous valour, munificent liberality, and refined 
taste. I 

It was the avowed opinion of this peer, that the parliament 

* The remains of Sir Geoffrey Bolen are deposited in St. Leonard's 
church, near the Old Jewry. From an old record referred to in Bloom- 
field's History of Norfolk, it appears that he purchased the manor of 
Blicking, in Norfolk, of Sir John Falstaffe, Knight. 

■j- Unlike his benevolent father, Sir William bequeathed lOZ. to tlirco 
priests to celebrate masses for his soul. He was interred in Norwich 
cathedral. 

X Sec Dr. Nott's very interesting account of the house of Howard, in 
his Life of Surrey. 



48 EARL OF SURREY. 

alone could legitimate the authority of princeS; and that who- 
ever obtained its suffrage became the rightful sovereign. In 
conformity to this principle, he followed the banner of Richard 
the Third to Bosworth Field ; an offence for which he was long 
immured in the Tower by Henry the Seventh. Being at length 
restored to favour, he displayed equal zeal and ability in the 
service of his new master, who, by an effort of magnanimity un- 
paralled in the race of Tudor, sanctioned the nuptials of the 
earl's eldest son. Lord Thomas Howard, with his affianced bride, 
the Lady Anne, who was not only of royal blood, but the 
younger sister of Henry's own queen, Elizabeth. At the period 
of Sir Thomas Boleyn's marriage, the Earl of Surrey was in the 
zenith of power and prosperity, possessing the confidence of his 
sovereign, and the suffrage of the people. In sanctioning this 
unequal connexion, he may be supposed to have consulted his 
daughter's inclination, rather than his own ambition; but if he 
accepted as a son the object of her choice, he appears to have 
exacted from him unconditional obedience. The will of Surrey 
was henceforth to be the arbiter of his actions ; and thus formed 
on his lessons, and directed by his experience, the grandson of 
the honest independent citizen Sir Geoffrey became a placeman, 
a pensioner, and a courtier. 

In this career he was well fitted to succeed, by his native 
sagacity and polished manners ; nor was his wife less formed to 
adorn a court. In her father's castle, accustomed to an almost 
princely magnificence, she had been ill prepared to preside in a 
private mansion, however opulent or luxurious. In that martial 
age, the rich barons of England vied with its monarchs in the 
extravagance of their establishments, their splendid liveries, and 
numerous retainers. In some instances, indeed, the baronial 



SIR THOMAS BOLEYN. 49 

castle assumed a character more truly royal than the king's 
palace. The noble house of Howard, like that of Percy, evinced 
a liberal predilection for literature and the arts, and alternately 
gave encouragement and protection to indigent poets, and ad- 
venturous scholars. Under the cautious administration of Henry 
the Seventh, useful talents alone were sought and respected, and 
diligence and circumspection preferred to more showy and 
brilliant accomplishments. During his reign. Sir Thomas Boleyn 
was not destined to obtain preferment, and he appears to have spent 
that interval in the retirement of his paternal mansion, at Roch- 
ford Hall* in Essex, where, inf 1597, his wife gave birth to the 
celebrated Anne, the scene of whose infancy is still pointed out 
to the curious inquirer, with many traditional observations. 
Henry the Eighth ascended the throne in 1509, and it was one 
of the first acts of his sovereignty to confer the place of deputy- 
warden of the customs of Calais (a sinecure producing a salary 
of thirty-six pounds per annum) on Sir Thomas Boleyn, who, 
from this time, became familiar with the court , and, with his 
accomplished wife, regularly took part in the splendid entertain- 
ments given by their youthful sovereign. 

* Rochford Hall, in Essex, long the seat of the Botelers and Ormonds ; 
from them transferred, by marriage, to the Boleyns. Rochford Hall is still 
in existence, and at present in the occupation of Mr. Harrison. In 1774, 
all the Rochford property devolved on the Tilney family . The manor of 
Rochford now belongs to Mr. Wellesley Pole. For a further account, 
see the Appendix, No. 11., at the end of this volume. 

f This date decidedly refutes the infamous calumny of Sanders, who 
asserts that Henry the Eighth, to gratify an illicit passion for the wife 
of Sir Thomas Boleyn, sent him on an embassy to France, and that 
Anne was the oflFspring of this adulterous connection. In reality. Anno 
was born two yearfj before Henry's accession to the throne. 

5 



50 ANNE BULLEN'S INFANCY. 

If happiness be measured by prosperity, the period of Anne 
Bullen's infancy must have formed for her family a season of 
uninterrupted felicity. Her grandfather, the great Earl of 
Surrey, presided in the council; his three sons, the Lords Tho- 
mas, Edmund, and Edward, engrossed the highest honours of 
the state; whilst his son-in-law. Sir Thomas Boleyn, without 
aspiring to naval or military triumphs, occupied a place in the 
royal household, and was soon selected, with other confidential 
agents, for those diplomatic transactions, which were only in- 
trusted to men of approved talents and discretion. Naturally 
timid and circumspect, his ambition appears to have been checked 
by caution : even his talents were veiled by discretion ; that 
exquisite tact of penetration, for which he has been called the 
picMock of princes, was but gradually unfolded ; and although 
associated or implicated in almost every embassy during the first 
five-and-twenty years of Henry's reign, he long continued to feel 
the ascendancy of the house of Howard, and to rank rather 
with the satellites of the court, than the confidential ministers 
of the sovereign. As a man of letters, and a fine gentleman, 
he* was personally more acceptable to Henry than the high-born 
nobles, or powerful prelates, who challenged the right of direct- 
ing his counsels. The King was still more attracted by the 
manners of the Lady Elizabeth, his consort, who often assisted 
in the masque, and mingled in its nocturnal revelry; protected 
from reproach by the presence of her husband or her own illus- 
trious relatives.* 

Born in a family that boasted of its love for letters, she pos- 

* She appears to have been the person designated by Hall, in his 
description of a masque (in 1510), in which the King took a part, and 
in which the princess and five other ladies appeared as Ethiopians. 



THE LADY ELIZABETir. 51 

sessed more cultivation than was usually found, even in ladies 
of exalted station. Henry relished her society, and as she was 
many years older than his queen, perhaps never suspected that 
his marked attentions* could be injurious to her reputation ; 
but, although the conduct of Elizabeth appears to have been 
perfectly correct, it may be doubted whether her pride and am- 
bition did not predominate over the more amiable affections of 
her sex. In submitting to an early separation from her children, 
two of whom were educated in exilef from their native country, 
she might have sacrificed maternal tenderness to the pride of the 
Howards or the ambition of the Boleyns ; but in preparing for 
their future greatness, she must unquestionably have fulfilled 
her own conception of parental duty. In her age, not only 
moral feelings, but domestic affections, were perverted by an 
artificial system of society : nobility was honoured as virtue, and 
grandeur mistaken for felicity. 

During the first five years of Henry's reign, the Earl of Sur- 
rey maintained his ascendancy in his favour; and as it was easy 
to perceive the King had little relish for the conversation of 
formal statesmen, he adroitly stigmatized the prudent maxims 
of Henry the Seventh, and rather stimulated than reproved the 
prodigality of his successor. By this delicate flattery, he might 

* She was, says Loyd, his solace, not his sin. — In the attentions of 
Heury, though santioned by custom and courtesy, and in the envy they 
excited, originated the scandalous stories afterwards propagated with 
such malicious zeal by the enemies of Anne Boleyn and the Refor- 
mation. 

f Anne and George. Loyd asserts, that the latter was bred up as a 
page in the imperial court ; although he is known to have afterwards 
pursued his studies at Oxford. See " The Statesmen and Favourites 
of England." 



52 FOX, BISHOP OF WINCHESTER. 

justly hope to acquire a permanent empire over the King's mind : 
but courtier is counteracted Iby courtier ; and it was reserved for 
Fox, Bishop of "Winchester, with the short-sightedness peculiar 
to cunning, to raise up against the ancient house of Howard a 
man of yesterday, on whose gratitude or dependence he weakly 
expected to establish an unanswerable claim to future subser- 
viency and obedience. The object of this speculation was no 
other than the celebrated Wolsey, a man with whose character 
and fortune it is not easy to discover a parallel in ancient or 
modern history. It is notorious that this great statesman was a 
butcher's son, born at Ipswich, and indebted to its free-school 
for his scholastic attainments ; an obligation he afterwards repaid 
by the foundation of a classical college. His childhood deve- 
loped extraordinary powers of application ; ambition incited him 
to exertion : and since it was only within the church that a man 
of churlish blood was permitted to cherish emulation, he became 
a churchman, pursued his studies at Oxford, and at the age of 
fifteen obtained a degree from Magdalen College,* where his pre- 
cocity procured him the appellation of the Boy-Bachelor. It 
was not long before he was elected Master of Magdalen School, 
and, having (as a tutor) attracted the patronage of the Marquis 
of Dorset, by that nobleman was presented to the living of 
Leamington in Somersetshire, where, but for an unforeseen cir- 
cumstance, he might have lived and died, unknown to kings or 
statesmen, in lettered ease and affluent obscurity. 

But to Wolsey was allotted a different destiny ; and an auspi- 
cious disappointment conducted him to greatness. At the insti- 

^ This college was founded by Cardinal "Wolsey in 1518, when he was 
in the zenith of his power, and subsisted till the period of his fall, in 
1529. 



WOLSEY'S MISSION. 63 

gation of one Sir Amias Paiilct, whom he had formerly offended, 
he received a personal affront, that either obstructed his in- 
duction, or induced him to relinquish his benefice.* Having 
once more to seek his fortune, he repaired to Calais, where he 
officiated as domestic chaplain of Sir John Naphant, a man con- 
nected with the court and in habits of intimacy with Fox, Bishop 
of Winchester, the confidential counsellor of Henry the Seventh. 
An opportunity was not long wanting to call forth Wolsey's 
superior talents. In the progress of his abortive treaty of mar- 
riage with Margaret of Savoy, Henry having occasion to despatch 
a trustworthy messenger to Flanders, applied to Fox to recom- 
mend a prompt and intelligent agent : the person chosen was 
Wolsey, who being, in every sense of the word, a ready mauy 
was no sooner furnished with his despatches, than he hastened 
to St. Omer's, obtained an interview with the Emperor, and 
having duly executed his commission, travelled night and day 
with such expedition that, on his way back, he actually inter- 
cepted a messenger whom the King had sent with instructions, 
which he had already anticipated. On proceeding to court, the 
King, little suspecting that his commission was accomplished, 
gently rebuked him for having so long deferred his journey. 
An explanation followed, by which Henry was surprised into an 
acknowledgment of grateful admiration, and the diligent courier 
was soon rewarded with the deanery of Lincoln. On the death 

* It has been said, that Wolsey was set in the stocks, a punishment 
reserved for base delinquents. Of whatever nature might be the injury 
received, it was afterwards amply revenged on Sir Amias Paulet, who 
was confined five years by the will of the omnipotent chancellor ; to 
appease whose vindictive spirit he erected a gatehouse over the Middle 
Temple, which subsisted till the great fire of London. 
5* 



54 WOLSEY'S CHARACTEE. 

of this prince; lie was appointed almoner to his successor, to 
whom he became first acceptable^ then necessary, and finally in- 
dispensable. Of Wolsey, in common with many other eminent 
personages, it might be observed, that he possessed every quality, 
good or bad, that conducts to fortune. To a daring spirit he 
added indefatigable perseverance ; with the graces of eloquence 
he united exquisite flexibility and address, and all those apti- 
tudes to dissimulation so essential to the favourite and useful to 
the statesman. Unchecked by any fixed principles of rectitude, 
his unconquerable ambition usurped the place of social sympa- 
thies and moral feelings. His most permanent sentiment was 
pride ; yet could he stoop to rise, and cared little by what means 
he achieved his favourite object. In his intercourse with the 
world he had learnt to be serious with the grave, and convivial 
with the gay ; but whilst his native arrogance assumed the ex- 
pression of liberality, or disinterestedness, or dignity, the vin- 
dictive passions lurked in his breast ; and in the most brilliant 
moments of his life he remained incapable of that magnanimity 
which scorns to trample on a fallen foe. Hitherto it had been 
his business to conciliate esteem, and inspire confidence; and 
such was his address, or his discretion, that his exaltation excited 
neither envy nor distrust even in the Bishop of Winchester, his 
original patron and benefactor. Wolsey was still the ready 
man ; with powers of promptitude and self-possession never to 
be suspended; and happy were the king's counsellors to devolve 
on him the task of communicating to their sovereign those dry 
official details, to which he evidently lent no willing ear : but it 
could not long escape the penetration of Henry, how much the 
humble almoner surpassed the noble courtiers. On whatever 
theme he expatiated, persuasion dwelt on his lips ; and the mo- 



WAR WITH FRANCE. 55 

narch tasted in his conversation a degree of pleasure he expe- 
rienced from no other society. Thus, by slow and imperceptible 
gradations, the obsequious priest acquired and assumed supre- 
macy over those to whom he had once yielded submission ; and 
persons of the highest rank no longer disdained to solicit his 
mediation, and to cultivate his friendship. From the noble 
family of Howard, however, his elevation extorted not respect, 
nor even courtesy, till they unwillingly learnt to discover the 
extent of his influence. With Sir Thomas Boleyn alone he 
appears to have soon established an intercourse like intimacy and 
confidence. 

The first five years of this reign were spent in a succession of 
tournaments, masques, pageants, and other elaborate puerilities. 
The King thirsted for military renown ; but his passion was un- 
gratified, till, by the machinations of the pope, and the intrigues 
of Ferdinand, his crafty father-in-law, a desultory war commenced 
against France, in which Henry, under pretence of assisting his 
father-in-law, officiously interfered without either profit or glory. 
The death of Sir Edward Howard, the Lord High Admiral of 
England,* inspired in the Earl of Surrey bitter feelings of hosti- 
lity towards France. Wolsey afi"ected to catch the patriotic 
enthusiasm of his master to revive the glorious days of Ed- 
ward the Third; and that nothing might be wanting to the 

^ Sir Edward Howard was one of the most gallant cavaliers of the 
age, and died, as he had ever wished to die, in struggling for glory ; 
but unfortunately his life was sacrificed in a rash and abortive enter- 
prise to destroy the French galleys in Brest Harbour. He was the 
most popular of the Howards, and his death Avas lamented as a national 
calamity. By this event, the care of his orphan daughters devolved 
on their grandfather ; and one of them (Catherine) was afterwards des- 
tined to become the queen of Henry the Eighth. 



56 CATHERINE'S REGENCY. 

resemblancej Henry determined to assume the command of his 
army, and valiantly to combat in person. As a proof how little 
importance was attached to practical experience, the Lord Tho- 
mas Howard, though almost new to nautical affairs, was pro- 
moted to the post of Lord High Admiral, which had been filled 
meritoriously by his ill-fated brother. Queen Catherine was 
constituted Regent, and on the Earl of Surrey devolved the 
onerous task of directing her councils. In this expedition, Henry 
was attended, not only by his confidant, Wolsey, but by his first 
favourite, Charles Brandon, the history of whose rise is credit- 
able to the moral feelings of Henry the Seventh, and throws a 
solitary gleam of goodness over the harsh features of the Tudor 
race. In the last struggles between York and Lancaster, his 
father. Sir William Brandon, who had strenuously espoused the 
cause of Henry of Richmond, fell, the victim of honour and 
fidelity, in Bosworth Field. His family was taken under the 
conqueror's protection ; and Charles, the second son, having been 
constantly associated in the studies and pleasures of Prince 
Henry, continued even after his accession to the throne to retain 
the same place in his affections. At this period Charles, already 
a widower, was confessedly one of the most handsome and accom- 
plished cavaliers of the age, and endeared to his master by sym- 
pathy in tastes, habits, and amusements. Brandon alone had 
never to experience the fluctuations of his capricious humour, 
since to him he was uniformly kind, confiding, and indulgent. 
This extraordinary exemption might, in some degree, be ascribed 
to the influence which early associations are universally found 
to possess over the human heart ; but is also to be accounted for 
by the favourite's obvious inferiority, in all but personal accom- 
plishments, to the sovereign on whose protection he depended. 



EDMUND DE LA POLE. 57 

Brandon was eminently brave, and emulous of military glory ; 
and it was equally the part of Henry to excite his ambition, and 
promote his fortune. He was, perhaps, not aware that his sister 
Mary, who had been contracted to the Prince of Castile, enter- 
tained for Brandon any warmer sentiment than friendship, al- 
though the extreme repugnance which the princess expressed to 
the idea of leaving England might have naturally suggested 
such an inference. The confidence of which he was in this in^ 
stance capable, becomes the more striking, when contrasted with 
those traits of suspicion and stubbornness which began to pre- 
dominate in his character ; and which, even in this brilliant hour 
of youth, betrayed him to an action the most base and inglorious. 
It is well known that the unfortunate Edmund de la Pole, who, 
by the artifices of Henry the Seventh, had been enticed from 
his asylum in Flanders, still languished in the Tower, to which 
he had been committed as a state prisoner ; even the ungenerous 
persecutor of the Plantagenets had pursued the victim no far- 
ther. Nor was any attempt made to cut short a life devoted to 
hopeless captivity, till, among other preliminary steps to the 
invasion of France, it appeared necessary to the Privy Council to 
dispose of a person against whom no other crime could be alleged 
than that he was of royal blood, and might hereafter form plau- 
sible pretensions to the crown. When this question was debated 
in the Privy Council, Sir Thomas Boleyn, with characteristic 
caution, opposed the King's leaving England, while such a rival 
remained in existence. The Earl of Surrey, on the contrary, 
contended that it would be unsafe to trust to the fidelity of the 
army, unless the King commanded in person ; so little confidence 
was reposed in the loyalty of the subject, or the honour of the 
soldier, and so completely are despotism and ignorance subver- 



58 POLE'S DEATH. 

sive of security to the sovereign^ and of probity in the people ! 
To put an end to doubts and scruple, Henry instantly signed 
the warrant for De la Pole's death; and thus offered his first 
victim to those fantastic terrors, which, during his whole reign, 
ceased not to haunt his mind with ominous predictions of a dis- 
puted succession. In every age the sophistical doctrine of poli- 
tical expediency has lent its pernicious license to cruelty and 
injustice. Under the dynasty of the Tudors, when the sense of 
rectitude was blunted by ignorance and superstition, the partial 
torpor of the understanding seems to have reached the heart; 
since the immolation of De la Pole is scarcely noticed even by 
those contemporary historians who have inveighed against Henry's 
subsequent crimes. It was for Catherine alone to oppose this 
barbarous policy ; and, although her intercession was unavail- 
ingly employed to rescue the injured prince from destruction, 
she ceased not to deplore his fate, predicting that his innocent 
blood would be avenged on his enemies and their posterity.* 
The horror with which she contemplated this legal murder, in- 
creased her melancholy in witnessing Henry's departure ; and it 
was her best consolation, to extract from Wolsey those minute 
details, which she hoped not to obtain from her husband. In 
the following letter she probably might be assisted by an Eng- 
lish pen ; but the sentiments are evidently dictated by anxious 
feminine tenderness. 

-)t Previous to Catherine's marriage with Arthur, her grandfather, 
Ferdinand, is said to have stipulated for the destruction of Edmund de 
la Pole, lest his future claims should interfere with the interests of his 
daughter's descendants. It is pretended by Le Grand and other Ca- 
tholic writers, that Catherine considered her subsequent trials and 
misfortunes as ordained by retributory Providence. 



LETTER OF CATHERINE. 69 

Catherine {of Arragon) Queen of England, to Wolsey, 
(Orig. 1513.*) 

^^ Master Almoner, thinking that the King's deputing from 
Calais shall cause that I shall not so often hear from his grace, 
for the great business in his journey that every day he shall have, 
I send now my servant, to bring me word of the King, and he 
shall tarry there till another cometh, and so I shall hear every 
week from thence and so I pray you to take the l^j^ams] with 
every one of my messengers to write to me of the King's health 
and [what] he intendeth to do ; for when you be so near your 
enemies, I shall be [miserable,] till I see often letters from you, 
and doing this ye shall give me cause to thank you ; and I shall 
know that the mind ye have had to me continueth still, as my 
trust always hath been. The briefs that the pope sent to the 
King I was very glad to see, and I shall be more to hear that 
he is the mean, either to make an honourable peace for the King, 
or else help on his part, as much as he can, knowing that all 
the business that the King hath was first the cause of the church, 
and with this and the Emperor together, I trust to God that the 
King shall come home shortly, with as great victory as any 
prince in the world, and this I pray God send him without need 

of any other prince; Sir Almoner, touching Francesse de 

Cassery's matter, I thank you for your labours therein : true it 
is she was my woman before she was married, but noAV, Sir, she 
cast herself away ; I have no more charge of her : for very pity 
to see her lost I prayed you, in Canterbury, to find the means to 

* Copied from MS. in the British Museum. Caligula, D. YI. 28. — 
N. B. The words enclosed in brackets are supplied, the original being 
eflfaced. 



60 LETTER OF CATHERINE. 

send her liome into her country; now ye think that, with my 
recommendation to the Duchess of JSavoT/, she shall be content 
to take her into her service, this, Mr. Almoner, is not mete for 
her ; for she is so pillous a woman, that it shall be dangerous to 
put her in a strange house ; if you will do so much for me to 
make her go hence by the way, with the ambassador of the King 
my father, it should be to me a great pleasure, and one that ye 
shall bind me to you more than ever I was. From hence I have 
nothing to write to you, but every body here is in good health, 
thanked be Grod, and the counsail very diligent in all things 
concerning the expedition of the King's G-race; and ye will do 
so much to pray the King to be so good lord as to write to them, 
that he is informed by me \Jiow'] so well every thing is done by 
them, tha.t he is very well content thereat and give them thanks 
for it, bidding them so to continue. And with this I make an 
end on this .... day of July.'^ 

Catherine of Arragon, Queen of England, to Wolsey. (Orig. August ~ 

13, 1513.)* 

" Master Almoner, I received both the letters by Copynger 
and John Glyn, and I am very glad to hear so [Jiow'] well the 

King passeth his dangerous passage I trust to Grod it 

shall so continue that ever the King shall have best on 

his enemies with as great honor as ever King had. Till I saw 
your letter I \jwas] troubled to hear [hoio] so near the King was 
to the siege of Trouenne .... but now I thank Grod ye make me 
sure of the good heed that the King taketh of himself, to avoid 
all manner of dangers. I pray you, good Mr. Almoner, remem- 
ber the King always thus to continue, for with his life and health 

* Caligula, D. YI. 29. 



LETTER OF CATHERINE. 61 

there is nothing in the world that shall come amiss, by the grace 
of Grod, and .... without that, I can see no manner of good 
thing shall fall after it, and being sure that ye will not forget 
this, I will say herein no more, but I pray you to write .... to 
me and though ye have no great matters, yet I pray you send 
me word .... the chief that it is to me from the King's own 
self. Ye may think, when I put you to this labour, that I for- 
get the great business that ye have on hand ; but if ye see .... 
in what case I am that is without any comfort or pleasure unless 
I hear from him, ye will not blame me to desire you though it 
be a short letter, to let me know from you tidings as often as 
may be, as my trusting dispatch unto you. From hence, I have 
no thing to write to you, but that ye be not so busy in this .... 
war, as we be here encumbered with it. I mean that touching 
my own concerns, for going farther, where I shall not so often 
hear from the King. And all his subjects be very glad, I thank 
God, to be busy with the goff,* for they take it for .... pass- 
time ; my heart is very good to it and I am horribly busy with 
making . . . standards, banners, and bagets. I pray God first 
to send there with you a good battail, as I trust he shall do, and 
with that every thing here shall go very well you to send 

* This passage evidently alludes to the popular game of gofiFc, of 
which the following account is given in Strutt's Sports and Pastimes : 
— " There are many games played with the ball, that require the assist- 
ance of a club or bat, and probably the most ancient among them is 
the pastime now distinguished by the name of goff. In the northern 
parts of the kingdom, goff is much practised. It requires much room 
to perform this game with propriety : it answers to a rustic pastime of 
the Romans, which they played with a ball of leather stuffed with 
feathers, called paganka ; and the goff-ball is composed of the same 
materials to this day." 

6 



62 BATTLE OF SPURS. 

me word whether you received the letters that I sent unto you 
to .... of the King my father and what answer he gave you to 

it; and with this an end. At Richmount the xiiij. day 

of August. 

" Catherine." 

The most remarkable circumstance of this camiDaign, was that 
Henry took into his pay the Emperor Maximilian, notorious for 
combining prodigality with meanness, and that he was lodged 
at an enormous expense in a tent of cloth of gold.* The royal 
camp was an ever-shifting scene of pomp and festivit}^ A herald 
was received on one day ', an embassy entertained the next ; ex- 
cursions succeeded to skirmishes ; and Henry and his courtiers 
visited Maximilian's daughter, Margaret, the Duchess Dowager 
of Savoy, who was also governess of the Netherlands : to crown 
all, he defeated the French, or rather displaced them, in the 
celebrated Joifniee c?es Esperons, or battle of the spurs; so called, 
because the enemy only spurred their horses to fly from the 
field. A victory, such as this, was little flattering to the descend- 
ants of those conquerors, who had immortalized the names of 
Cressy and Agincourt ; but flattery and policy exaggerated its 
importance. Te Deum was sung in the churches; bonfires 
blazed through the streets ; the Emperor and the King recipro- 
cated compliments ; and Catherine, with grateful exultation, 
addressed to Wolsey the following letter, in which she is evi- 
dently impressed with reverence for the dignity of the imperial 
soldier Maximilian. 

* The Emperor Maximilian was at once crafty and presumptuous, 
extravagant and rapacious, a baser counterpart of Ferdinand of Arra- 
gon. 



I 



CATHERINE'S LETTER. 63 

Catherine [of Arragon), Queen of England, to Wolsey. {Orig. after 
the battle of the Spurs. August 25, 1513).''^ 

" Master Almoner ; what comfort I have with the good tidings 
of your letter I need not write it to you ; for the very account 
that I have sheweth it the victory hath been so great, that I 
think none such hath been seen before : all England hath cause 
to thank Grod of it, and I especially, seeing that the King begin- 
neth so well, which is to me a great hope that the end shall be 
like. I pray God send the same shortly, for if this continue so 
still, I trust in Him that every thing shall follow thereafter to 
the King's pleasure and my comfort. Mr. Almoner, for the 
pains ye take remembering to write to me so often, I thank you 
for it with all my heart, praying you to continue still sending 
me word how the King doeth, and if he keep still his good rule 
as he began, I think, with the company of the Emperoi-, and 
with his good council his grace shall not adventure himself so 
much as I was afraid of before. I was very glad to hear the 
meeting of them both, which hath been, to my fancying, the 
greatest honour to the King that ever came to prince. The 
Emperor hath done every thing like himself. I trust to God he 
shall be thereby known for one of the gallantest princes in the 
world, and taken for another man that he was before thought. 
Mr. Almoner, I think myself that 1 am so bound to him for 
my part, that in my letters I beseech the King to recommend 
me unto him; and if his grace thinketh that this shall be well 
done, I pray you to remember it. News from hence I have 
none, but such as I am sure the council have advertised the King 

-■ Caligula, D. YI. 30. 



64 WOLSEY A BISHOP. 

of,* and tliereby ye see Almiglity Grod helpetli here our part, as 

well as there. I trowe the cause is, as here say, that the 

King disposeth himself to him so well, that I hope all . . . shall be 
the better for his honour, and with this I make an end, at ... . 
the xxY. day of August. 

^^Gr. Katherina." 

From this victory, of which Catherine's love magnified the 
importance, nothing resulted, but that Henry retreated towards 
Tournay, of which he obtained possession, merely, it should 
seem, to give Wolsey a bishopric, and to prove, according to the 
almoner's artful suggestion, that he could reduce to obedience 
a town, whose ancient inhabitants had resisted the arms of 
Caesar. To these exploits succeeded a tournament, in honour 
of the governess of the Netherlands. f Jousting or feasting em- 
ployed the day, dancing and masquing consumed the night; 
whilst Henry, elate with joy and vanity, took upon himself to 
enthral Margaret and Charles Brandon (lately created Yiscount 
Lisle) in a mutual passion. Either from policy or inclination, 
the Duchess of Savoy was observed to lavish smiles and courte- 

-'^ Catherine alludes to the victory obtained by the Earl of Surrey at 
riodden Field. 

f This princess was, in her childhood, contracted to Charles the 
Eighth, from whose court she was suddenly dismissed to make room 
for the marriage of that prince with Anne of Brittany. At the age of 
seventeen Margaret espoused the Prince of Castile, who dying in two 
years, she married the Duke of Savoy, and again became a widow at 
one-and-twenty : from that period she is said to have protested against 
the surrender of her independence. The Netherlands prospered under 
her government, and she was certainly entitled to take place with the 
best statesmen of the age. 



THE DUCHESS OF SAVOY. 65 

sies on the amiable cavalier ; but neither his birth nor station 
could sanction pretensions to the daughter of an emperor; nor 
was the strong-minded Margaret likely to sacrifice prudence to 
love ; it may, therefore, be presumed, her attention was merely 
a political fiction, devised by her crafty father, or the more 
subtle Wolsey, who, perfectly aware of the mutual attachment 
subsisting between the favourite and the Princess Mary, had 
suggested this expedient to detach them from each other. By 
whatever agency the illusion was created, Brandon affected to 
become its dupe ; so willed his sovereign, who, however kind and 
indulgent on ordinary occasions, had been too long invested with 
power, not to require from his favourite unconditional obedience. 
Fortunately for the interests of his true passion, Henry, whom 
four months had sickened of war, no longer deferred his return 
to Richmond, where his Queen impatiently awaited his arrival, 
and where, if we may believe the chronicler, there was such a 
loving meeting, that it rejoiced everg one to heliold.^ It is indeed 
somewhat singular, that under Catherine's delegated authority, 
Henry should have obtained the most brilliant and important 
victory that adorned his reign. 

During his absence from England, James the Fourth of Scot- 
land, a gallantf prince, married to his elder sister Margaret, had 
seized the opportunity to invade England, expecting, by this 
irruption, to promote the cause of his ally, Louis the Twelfth. 
After spreading terror and devastation through the northern 

* Hall. 

■j- James the Fourth of Scotland was, in the language of chivalry, 
the devoted knight of Anne of Brittany, and was, in his political con- 
duct, supposed to have been influenced by sentiments of romantic 
fidelity for a princess he had never beheld. 



66 FLODDEN FIELD. 

counties lie invested Norliam castle, whicli was soon forced to 
capitulate ; and to arrest his progress, the gallant Earl of Surrey, 
supported by his two brave sons, the Lord Thomas, and Sir 
Edmund Howard, gave him battle on Flodden Field. To the 
invaders the day proved fatal : their army was routed ; their king 
slain; his natural son, the Archbishop of St. x\ndrew's, with 
several prelates, left dead on the field, and, in reality, the Scotch 
received a check, from which, during Henry's reign, they never 
perfectly recovered. 

It is easy to imagine how much the recollections and the 
trophies of this glorious victory must have heightened the satis- 
faction with which Catherine welcomed back her lord and sove- 
reign. Happily for her peace, she knew not with what ardent 
admiration he had beheld the beautiful wife of Sir Grilbert Tail- 
boys,* (governor of Calais,) the first acknowledged rival in her 
husband's affections. Henry was neither slow to acknowledge, 
nor unwilling to recompense the valour of his subjects. At a 
solemn festival, and in the presence of unnumbered spectators, 
he created the Earl of Surrey Duke of Norfolk; and having 
offered this proper tribute to the conqueror of James the Fourth, 
proceeded to dispense his favours, with somewhat more of libe- 
rality than discrimination, on the associates of his late expedi- 
tion. In this chosen number, the most partially distinguished 
was Wolsey, advanced to the archbishopric of York, which he 
was permitted to hold with the see of Lincoln. That Henry 

* This lady, the daughter of Sir John Blount, appears to have been 
one of the most beautiful and accomplished -women of her time. After 
her husband's death she was notoriously the King's mistress, and had 
by him a son called Henry Fitzroy, born in 1519, created Duke of Pdch- 
mond, in 1525, who died in 1537. 



SIR CHARLES SOMERSET. 67 

did not^ however, overlook the favourites of a former age, was 
proved by the preferment of his chamberhiin, Sir Charles 
Somerset Lord Herbert of Gower, who for his late conduct in 
France was created Earl of "Worcester. Of this veteran courtier 
it is worthy of remark that, like Sir Charles Brandon, he had 
been the architect of his own fortune ; having surmounted, by 
personal merit, the prejudices attached to illegitimate birth, and 
almost effaced the stigma which his mother's frailty had left on 
her honourable ancestry. His father, who was avowedly the 
Duke of Somerset, dying without heirs, the ambitious youth 
challenged from courtesy the recognition of his natural rights, 
by assuming the name of Somerset. This gallant spirit won 
the good will of Henry the Seventh, at whose court he was soon 
distinguished among the train of esquires, and expectant courtiers, 
as the object of his especial favour. Raised to the dignity of a 
banneret, he obtained the hand of Elizabeth, the wealthy heiress 
of the Earl of Huntingdon ; and on the demise of his father-in-law 
was exalted to the peerage by the style of Lord Herbert Baron 
Gower le Chevalier. From that period Sir Charles Somerset 
acquired a decided influence in the Council ; and by his prudence 
and moderation endeared himself to the people. On the acces- 
sion of Henry the Eighth, the citizens, by his mediation, pre- 
sented petitions against Empson and Dudley ; and to his persua- 
sion was in part ascribed the resolution with which Henry com- 
menced his reign, of redressing the grievances of the people. 
In the expedition against France, Somerset attended not merely 
in a civil but a military capacity; and, dismissing the sedate 
habits of the Lord Chamberlain, resumed the martial exercises 
of his youth, and emulated in ardour and bravery his juvenile 
compeers. The favourites and statesmen of Henry's court were 



68 A TOUENAMENT. 

individually distinguished "by some predominant quality. The 
Howards were characterized by magnificence, the Earl of Bedford 
hy courtesy; Sir Charles Brandon by gallantry; whilst of Sir 
Charles Somerset the prevailing attributes appear to have been 
dignity and decorum ; whilst this nobleman was proclaimed Earl of 
Worcester, for diligence and fidelity, Charles Brandon was created 
Duke of Suffolk, for the express purpose, as it should seem, of 
wedding the august governess of the Netherlands. Henry was 
still bent on promoting this alliance ; but busy rumour whispered 
that his friend was more likely to win the beautiful Mary of 
England, than the ambitious Margaret of Savoy. In a tourna- 
ment at Grreenwich, however, the Duke chose a device, evidently 
alluding to his Flemish mistress. On this occasion, clad as a 
pilgrim, with a long silver beard, he exhibited a stafP, on which 
was inscribed the motto of " Who can Tiold tliat will away ?'' 
and hence it was conjectured that he persevered with his suit, 
and that he anticipated a prosperous issue. With whatever feel- 
ings Mary might witness this ostentatious demonstration of her 
knight's inconstancy, she had no alternative but to disguise her 
chagrin with the semblance of gayety and good-humour. It is, 
indeed, possible, that she gave little faith to the unwelcome con- 
jecture ; and, her marriage-treaty with the Prince of Castile 
being annulled, she might secretly exult in the conviction, that 
the man of her choice was not held unworthy of alliance with 
a lady whose birth and station were even more illustrious than 
her own ; but whatever hopes she might have cherished, they 
were annihilated by a few strokes of the statesman's pen. A 
treaty of peace was concluded with France, of which Mary was 
destined to become the unwilling guarantee, and, at eighteen, 
constrained to pledge her faith to Louis, who had already com- 



MARY AFFIANCED TO LOUIS XII. 69 

pleted his fifty-sixth year, and, from ilhiess and infirmity, appeared 
to have prematurely reached the extremity of old age. Even 
Henry, though eager to secure to her a royal diadem, at first 
recoiled from the proposal ; but his scruples were obviated by 
the plausible suggestion of Wolsey, that Mary, if she survived 
Louis, would be at liberty to return to England, mistress of 
herself, and of a princely dower, not inferior to what had been 
settled on her predecessor, Anne of Brittany. The final ratifi- 
cation of this article by the French court removed every impe- 
diment to the marriage; and the Duke of Longueville, who, 
since the campaign, had been detained a prisoner of war in Eng- 
land, was authorized to solemnize by proxy the auspicious espou- 
sals. Finding resistance unavailing, Mary submitted quietly to 
her fate; and Henry, who could not, without regret, part from 
a beloved sister, the sprightly playmate of his childhood, not 
only reiterated his solemn assurances that she should hereafter 
reclaim fraternal protection, but attempted to divert her chagrin 
by the magnificence of her bridal establishment. In these ar- 
rangements the ascendancy of the house of Howard was strikingly 
apparent : to the Duke of Norfolk was intrusted the guardian- 
ship of her person ; his two sons assisted in the charge ; Sir 
Thomas Boleyn was associated with the Bishop of Ely in the 
diplomatic department, and his daughter Anne, though scarcely 
seven years old, attached to the young queen's person, with the 
imposing title of Maid of Honour. Although this early intro- 
duction to court was justly considered as an especial favour to 
her family, it was a distinction often conferred on girls of illus- 
trious birth, who, in being thus admitted to a royal household, 
were gradually formed to the habits and duties of their vocation, 
and naturally acquired appropriate manners and sentiments to 



70 MARY'S FOLLOWERS. 

their adopted country. Exclusive of her personal attendants, 
Mary's retinue was swelled by a swarm of supernumerary volun- 
teers, of whom many desired but to wear out life in a state of 
parasitical indulgence ; whilst others, disguising ambition under 
the mask of loyalty, expected, by pompous demonstrations of 
zeal for the honour of their beautiful Princess, to acquire undis- 
puted title to her future patronage and protection. The spirit 
of adventure pervading the lower ranks of the community, was 
alike inimical to industry, probity, and independence. In them, 
such was the reverence for gentility, and such the passion for 
pomp and pageantry, that it was equally common for an indivi- 
dual to sink his whole property in the purchase of a pair of 
colours, or a suit of court-clothes ; to follow the soldier of for- 
tune; or volunteer in some noble lord's or lady's train, with the 
doubtful chance of favour and preferment. The canopy of a 
royal bride was the banner to which idleness, profligacy, and 
vanity hastened to vow allegiance. Many sunk, and others 
mortgaged their whole property to procure an equipage suitable 
to the occasion ; others contracted debts on a perilous contingency, 
and abjured honesty, in renouncing independence. It may, 
indeed, be suspected, that independence was not to be appreciated 
by those whose distaste to serious and useful occupation was 
heightened by contempt for the duties of humble life, and avi- 
dity for the honours of a brilliant station. 

The elevation of an English Princess to the throne of France, 
was an event of too much interest not to attract adventurers of 
every class to her standard ; and the bridal train of Mary, in- 
cluding guards, domestics, and retainers, amounted to the alarm- 
ing number of three thousand followers, who were crowded 
together in the fleet appointed to conduct her to Boulogne. 



THE LANDING. 71 

It was on the 2d of October that slxe embarked at Dover, to 
which place she had been accompanied by Henry and Catherine. 
Her visible depression excited pity : and it was generally believed 
that she would have preferred Charles Brandon and old England, 
to Louis and his crown. 

The voyage, though brief, was rough and perilous ; and the 
little fleet being separated by a tempest, the royal yacht alone 
reached the harbour of Boulogne, from whence a boat was launched 
for the Princess and her female attendants. When they ap- 
proached land, the violence of tne surf impeded their course ; but 
from this irksome situation Mary was extricated by the gallantry 
of an English knight,* who, plunging into the waves, bore her in 
his arms uninjured to the shore. Once landed, the unwilling 
guest was overwhelmed with homage and felicitation. The air 
resounded with shouts of joy; and, sorrowful and exhausted as 
she really was, a sense of propriety extorted from her answer- 
ing smiles, and expressions of complacency. At Boulogne, her 
train received a considerable augmentation, and at the head of the 
French nobility came the Duke of Angouleme (the son-in-law of 
Louis), afterwards so celebrated as Francis the First, hitherto 
distinguished only by his fondness for jousting and hunting; his 
ardour in the pursuits of love and gallantry, his exuberant gaycty, 
and expensive, but not untasteful magnificence. Like Henry, 
Francis had received a learned education, but had not, like him, 
plunged into the muddy streams of theology and Thorn -^s Aqui- 
nas. Imbued with the love of letters and the arts, he found 
leisure, amidst all his dissipation, for classical poetry ; and in 
some measure atoned for his varnished vices by elegant libations 
to the muses. Naturally volatile and impetuous, he cherished 

* Sir Chi'istopher Garnish. * 



72 THE CAVALCADE. 

a chivalrous sentiment of honour, which, in the absence of moral 
and religious principles, imparted to his character an occasional 
elevation and generosity the most imposing and attractive. It 
required all the gallantry for which he was pre-eminent, to greet 
with enthusiasm a woman who came to divest him of the title of 
Dauphin, and eventually, perhaps, to blast his long-cherished 
hopes of the French crown. Such, however, was the homage 
yielded to beauty, that, having once seen, he appeared but to 
live for her service. Under his escort she proceeded on her jour- 
ney with more state than comfort. Attired in a robe and mantle 
of cloth of gold, she rode with ease and dignity a white palfrey, 
loaded with gilt trappings, and followed by thirty-six ladies, 
attired and mounted in a style of similar magnificence.* 

In the rear of this cavalcade came three chariots (each not 
unlike a pleasure cart), covered with purple velvet, and cloth of 
gold, judiciously provided for such as aspired not to be eques- 
trians } in one of which, it may be presumed, sat the little Anne 
Boleyn. Behind these lumbering vehicles marched a gallant 
band of archers, habited in green, their bows and arrows slung 
with an expression of mingled gayety and impetuosity. The 
baggage-wagons that closed the rear might have suggested a 
comparison with the equipage of an oriental bride, or rather, 
with the onset of a royal crusade. The sumpter-mules an- 
nounced plenty; music floated in the air, and a succession of 
sweet or martial strains soothed the Princess, and enlivened her 
attendants ; nor was the gallantry of the age without its influence 
in softening the fatigues of their pilgrimage : every lady rode 

'''' It may, however, be remarked, that the distinction of crimson 
damask, or cloth of gold, formed a criterion by which was ascertained 
the dignity of the ridf r. - 



INTERVIEW WITH THE KING. 73 

between two cavaliers; and the Queen found, in the Duke of 
Angouleme, the most engaging companion. In this manner, on 
the second afternoon, they approached Abbeville, where Louis, 
who had anxiously awaited the arrival, was at length seized with 
such a paroxysm of impatience, that, forgetting his infirmities, 
he mounted his horse, and, at a little distance from the town, 
descried the unknown beloved. Little as Mary could have sym- 
pathized in the ardour of her aged lord, she well knew what was 
due to courtesy, and was no sooner apprised of his presence, than 
she made an effort to alight, to offer, as in duty bound, her ob- 
sequious homage; but the cumbersome ornaments of her dress 
cruelly impeded her movements. Perceiving her embarrassment, 
the gallant monarch, with a glance expressive of surprise and 
admiration, turned his horse into another direction, and, satisfied 
that rumour had not exaggerated her charms, returned by a pri- 
vate road to Abbeville, pensive and solitary ; not, perhaps, with- 
out some compunctious recollections of the moment when, to 
gratify his passion for Anne of Brittany, he had repudiated a 
blameless wife,* the daughter of his predecessor, and thus sullied 
with injustice and ingratitude an otherwise mild and beneficent 
reign. To Anne, indeed, he had been attached with a tender- 
ness and truth rarely witnessed in their exalted station. 
Fidelity and harmony crowned their union ; and he was plunged 
by her death into a melancholy that resisted all ordinary per- 
suasives to consolation. In permitting his son-in-law to assume 

* Joan of France, tlie daiighter of Louis XI., after her death canon- 
ized as a saint. Louis XIL, when Duke of Orleans, had been en- 
amoured of Anne, Duchess of Brittany, yrho having been first married 
by troth to Miiximilian of Austria, was eventually married by force to 
Charles VIII. of France. 
7 



X4 MARY'S MARRIAGE. 

the title of Dauphin, he tacitly disclaimed the intention of form- 
ing a second marriage; nor was it till policy suggested the ex- 
pediency of an alliance with Henry, that he determined to take 
another partner to his throne, — submitting, in common with the 
object of his choice, to the authority of statesmen, and the sup- 
posed interests of the state : but his reluctance once vanquished, 
he was not insensible to the eclat of espousing the fairest princess 
in Europe, poor as was the solace, that reason permitted him to 
hope, from the association of a youthful beauty, whose tastes 
and propensities must be wholly unsuited to the habits and in- 
firmities of his declining age. In the momentary glance that he 
exchanged with his new consort, he saw enough to justify the 
encomiums bestowed on her charms, but he saw also, with 
dismay, the number and splendour of her attendants ] and, to pre- 
vent future disturbance, resolved to lose no time in ridding him- 
self of such formidable intruders. On the morrow, the nuptials 
were solemnized in the church of St. Denis, with due pomj) and 
ceremony; a sumptuous banquet followed; and, that nothing 
might be omitted to conciliate the young Queen, the most marked 
attentions were lavished on her English guests.* But, at the 
moment that Mary saw herself the idol of Louis, and the French 

* By a document preserved in Leland's Collectanea, it appears, that 
to each of the lords and gentlemen twenty days' wages were given in 
advance. The Duke of Norfolk was furnished with a hundred horses, 
with an allowance of five pounds per day ; for the Marquis of Dorset 
(viz. eighty horses), four pounds per day; the Bishop of Duresme had 
sixty horses ; the Earl of Surrey, fifty-eight ; others of the nobility had 
thirty or twenty each : in addition to these, were eighteen bannerets 
and knights, with from twenty to twelve horses each : the esquires of 
the body had thirteen and four-pence per day ; exclusive of these, John 
Myclow headed fifty officers of the King's household. 



HEll LETTER TO HENRY. 75 

court, where the nobility and the Duke of Angouleme were 
emulous in offering the incense of adulation, the most cruel mor- 
tification was inflicted on her feelings; and the King, after a 
profusion of compliments, suddenly dismissed the whole English 
party,* protesting he could never sufficiently evince his gratitude 
for their care of his beloved consort Mary. 

The emotions with which Mary received this intimation, may 
be more easily conceived than described; and she has herself 
left a genuine transcript of her feelings, in the following letter, f 
addressed to Henry : — 
^' My good brother; 
" So heartily as I can, I recommend me to your Grace, ad- 
miring much that I have never heard from you, since my 
departing, so often as I have sent and written to you ; and now 
am I left heartless, alone, in effect; for on the morn next after 
my marriage, my chamberlain with other gentlemen were dis- 
charged. In like wise [manner] my mother Guildeford,| with 
other my women and maid-servants, except such as never had 
experience or knowledge how to advise, or give me counsel in 
any time of need, which is to be feared more shortly than your 

* The ladies appointed to attend on the French Queen ^Yere the Lady 
Guildeford, the Lady Elizabeth Gray, daughter of the Marquis of Dorset, 
Mrs. Elizabeth Ferrers, and Mrs. Anne Boleyn. The latter was permitted 
to remain ; a favour, without doubt, conceded to the Duke of Norfolk, in 
consideration of her being his relation. In the document, preserved by 
Leland, Anne is called M. Boleyn; an inaccuracywhich may have been 
supposed to lend some plausibility to the erroneous assertion of Sanders, 
that Mary Boleyn was the elder sister. 

-|- Cotton Manuscripts. 

J The lady thus designated was the Lady Guildford, wife of Sir 
Henry Guildford. 



76 MARY'S ATTENDANTS DISMISSED. 

Grraee thouglit at the time of my departing^ as my motlier Gr. 
can more plainly show than I can write, to whom I beseech you 
to give audience, and if may be by any means possible, I humbly 
request you to cause my said mother G-. to repair hither, once 
again ; for else if any chance hap, other than well, I shall not 
know where nor of whom to ask any good counsel, to your plea- 
sure, nor yet to mine own advantage. I marvel much that my 
Lord of Norfolk would at all times so lightly quit anything at 
their request. I am well assured, that when ye know the truth 
of every thing, as my mother Gr. can show you, ye would full 
little have thought, I should have been thus intreated. Would 
to Grod my Lord of York had come with me, in the room of my 
Lord of Norfolk ; for then I am sure I should have been left 
much more at my heart's ease, than I am now, and thus I bid 
your Grrace farewell, and more heart's ease than I have now. 
The 29th day of October. 

^' These go to my mother Gruildeford, of your loving sister, 

'^ Mary, Queen." 

The dissatisfaction of Mary could not escape the observation 
of Francis, who, to divert her chagrin, caused a tournament to 
be proclaimed, in honour of the nuptials, to which all the Eng- 
lish nobility were freely invited ; and he rightly judged such 
visiters to be best calculated to soften her disappointment. In 
the mean while Louis dismissed the Queen's nobler attendants 
with magnificent presents j but to the humbler and more neces-t 
sitous part of her retinue, neither humanity nor policy prompted 
him to offer any compensation for a disappointment by which 
they were probably involved in beggary and ruin. Of the gay 
and gallant train, who had so lately followed in triumph their 
admired Princess, no vestige could be discerned in those miser- 



THE CORONATION. 77 

ably destitute beings^ who returned like worn-out pilgrims from 
a disastrous crusade. There were some who never reached their 
country to relate their adventures in a foreign land ; many 
perished under the hardships they had to encounter in a journey 
from Abbeville to Calais or Dover — without money or other 
means of obtaining subsistence, and, if we may believe the chro- 
niclers,* some icent mad ; such was the wretchedness entailed 
on those indigent retainers of the great, who lived but to swell 
the pomp, and emblazon the prodigality of their arrogant lords. 
It appears not whether Mary was perfectly aware of the misery 
she had innocently occasioned. She was, perhaps, occupied with 
more pleasing anticipations of joy and triumph. In France, as 
in England, the name of a tournament created general interest 
and enthusiasm. The mutual jealousies subsisting between 
French and English knights, assumed on such occasions the high 
tone of patriotic sentiment, and the eagerness of personal emu- 
lation was exalted by a nice sense of national dignity and honour. 
The challenge of Francis was therefore received with transport 
by all who sighed for distinction, and possessed the indispen- 
sable requisites of a splendid suit, and a mettled courser. The 
Duke of Suffolk, too gallant to be rich, belonged not to this 
happy number ; but Henry loved him, and, wishing to obtain, in 
the person of his friend, that triumph which he could not chal- 
lenge for himself, he readily furnished him with money for the 
costly enterprise. Not one moment was to be lost by the candi- 
dates for chivalric fame. Horses and men were hastily embarked ; 
and the English party arrived in time to witness the ceremony 
of Mary's coronation, on the 5th of November, in the abbey of 
St. Denis, when the Duke of Augouleme, with his wonted gal- 

^ Hall. Speed. 
7* 



78 THE TOURNAMENT. 

lantry, held suspended over the young Queen's head the heavy 
Grothic crown^, which might otherwise have crushed her beauti- 
ful tresses. On the following day she made her public entry 
into PariS; where, amongst other honours, she was met by three 
thousand persons belonging to religious communities, who, in 
France, appear to have mingled more freely than in England in 
public processions. On either side of this fair pageant walked 
the French and English nobles, preceded by a formidable troop 
of Germans, and followed by the King's Scotch guard, who in 
those days were justly considered the satellites of royalty. The 
Queen was carried like an idol, in a chair of state, draped with 
cloth of gold, which was not suffered to conceal her person from 
the public gaze. On her head she wore a coronet of pearls ; 
her neck and bosom blazed with jewels. After this fatiguing 
ceremony, Mary was reconducted to her own apartments, and 
from thence to a sumptuous dinner and an overwhelming ban- 
quet. Finally, oppressed with compliments and congratulations, 
she had to preside at the midnight-ball, in which she could not 
but miss the gay exhilaration that her brother Henry was accus- 
tomed to infuse into those otherwise monotonous amusements. 
But the next day presented more interesting objects. It was the 
tournament in honour of her auspicious nuptials : nor could she 
refuse to participate in the exultation of her countrymen, when 
in the face of the first nobility of England and France, she was 
to maintain the proud pre-eminence of beauty, and receive the 
tribute of universal homage. The scene of pleasure was in the 
arena before the Bastile, in the Rue St. Antoine. A triumphal 
arch was there raised, emblazoned with the arms of France and 
England : beneath them were exhibited four targets } the first 
of gold, the second of silver, the third of ebon-black, the fourth 



JOUSTS. 79 

of a tawny hue ; on wliicli were incribed the names and preten- 
sions of the respective challengers.* Near the arch was erected 
a theatre, open on all sides, of which the most conspicuous part 
was occupied by the royal family. The Queen stood in front of 
the combatants ; and, proudly conscious that she was herself the 
first object of attraction, continued with goddess-like port to dis- 
pense her lovely smiles, and display the most bewitching graces 
to her enraptured votaries. Whilst the much-envied Louis, reclin- 
ing on a couch, with difficulty supported the fatigue of witness- 
ing this scene of splendour, and was probably tempted to draw 
some unpleasant comparisons between the fascinating Mary and 
to her more companionable predecessor. During three days had 
the suffering husband to brook the dissonant sounds of mirth and 
acclamation. During three days the jousts continued with 
frightful vehemence ; French and English knights contended 
like Greeks and Trojans, with unappeasable fury : on either side 
three hundred heroes entered the lists ; some fell in the field ; 
many were disabled for life ; and Francis himself, severely 
wounded, was forced to quit the lists. Like Achilles, Brandon 
was everywhere the successful combatant; yet, on one occa- 
sion, even he seemed on the brink of destruction,"}" when, at the 

* He whose name was inscribed on the silver target was to tilt ; the 
gold intimated that he should run with sharp spears and fight with 
sharp swords ; the black shield denoted that the knight was to fight 
on foot with swords and spears for the one hand ; the tawny shield, 
that he should fight with a two-handed sword. 

f In Drayton's Epistles the following comparison is drawn between 
Brandon and the most accomplished cavaliers of the French court. 

Alanson, a fine-timber'd man and tall, 

Yet wants the shape thou art adorn'd withal ; 



80 DEATH OP LOUIS XII. 

instigation, as was pretended, of Francis, he was encountered 
by some gigantic stranger, supposed to have been a German 
warrior : for a moment the issue of the combat was doubtful, 
and the Queen, by an involuntary emotion, betrayed her secret 
to Louisa, the intriguing mother of the Duke of Angouleme, 
who, naturally judging her character by her own depraved heart, 
advised her son to watch all her future movements. Brandon 
triumphed ; but it was only to exchange with his royal mistress 
a brief farewell, and return to England encumbered with debt, 
and with forlorn hopes of redeeming the obligation. 

The sufferings of Louis were probably abridged by the tourna- 
ment ; he, at least, lingered but till the ensuing February, when 
he breathed his last. Mary was once more free; but many 
princes might aspire to her hand, and Brandon's cause seemed 
desperate, since he could not woo, nor even approach his mis- 
tress, without risking his favour with a jealous sovereign. For- 
tunately this jealousy became his advocate ; believing that Francis 
would seek to inveigle his sister into a French marriage, Henry 
wrote to cau^tion her against a clandestine connection ; and to 
give more weight to his admonition, transmitted it by the Duke 
of Suffolk. 

Venclome's good carriage and a pleasing eye, 

Yet liath not Suffolk's pleasing majesty ; 

Courageous Bourlbon, a sweet manly face, 

But yet lie wants my Brandon's courtly grace ; 

Proud Longavile, our court judged hath no peer, 

A man scarce made was thought, whilst thou wert here ; 

Countie Saint Paul, a peerless man in France, 

Would yield himself a squire to bear thy lance : 

Galles and Bonnearme, matchless for their might. 

Under thy tow'ring blade have couch'd in fight. 



I 



MARY'S LOVE FOE, BRANDON. 81 

In the mean time Mary had written to remind her brother of 
bis former promise to allow her to reside in England, indirectly 
clainifing some recompense for her late obedience.* She pro- 
tested against a foreign alliance, declaring, that rather than marry 
a second time any other than the object of her choice, she would 
retire to a monastery and renounce the world for ever. But this 
declaration was softened by another, in which, with the most 
touching expressions of sisterly regard, she added, " I think 
every day a thousand, till I shall again behold you, and know 
not in the world any so great comfort." It sometimes happens 
that honest simplicity baffles craft and cunning, and that a gene- 
rous impulse of the heart removes obstacles which might have 
long resisted the efforts of elaborate policy. In an interview 
with the King of France, who had hoped to match her with the 
Duke of Ferrara, Mary frankly avowed the state of her affec- 
tions ; and, whether flattered by her confidence, or touched by 
her candour, he entered into her feelings, and cordially offered 
his mediation with the King of England. Reassured by his 
friendship, the Queen wrote to her brother, confessing or at 
least hinting her love, and imploring his consent to her hap- 
piness. f Henry's answer was neither prompt nor decisive; and 
it appeared but too probable that her hopes might again be sacri- 
ficed to the machinations of Wolsey and his ambitious sovereign. 

* '' I beseech your Grace (she writes) that you -will keep all the 
promises you made ■when I took leave ; for your Grace knows I married 
for 2/OU7- pleasure this time.'" 

■f " On Tuesday, late at night, the French king came to visit me, and 
after many fair words, demanded of me whether I had made any pro- 
mise of marriage in any place ; assuring me, upon the word and honour 
of a prince, that if I would explain, he would do for me to the best of 
his power." — See Original Letters. 



S2 MARY'S SECOND MARRIAGE. 

According to etiquette^ a queen-dowager of France was expected 
to consume two livelong months in a cliamber liung with 
blackj debarred from all customary recreations and amuse- 
mentS; and surrounded but by objects the most solemn and 
lugubrious. In admitting her lover's visits, Mary certainly 
infringed this rigid rule of widowhood; but her resistance was 
fortified by the suggestion of Francis, who strongly urged the 
necessity of her taking a decisive step to insure her future tran- 
quillity : emboldened by these counsels, she no longer hesitated 
to obey the dictates of her own heart ; and, under his auspices, 
was privately united to Charles Brandon five months after she 
had left England, a magnificent but unwilling bride. In these 
second nuptials, a striking contrast was presented to the proud 
but heartless pageantry of her former marriage. The ceremony 
was performed with the utmost privacy and simplicity in the 
Abbey of Clugny. Mary looked for no homage ; she was greeted 
with no acclamations ; but she listened to the promises of hope ; 
she indulged anticipations of felicity ; she had no longer to com- 
plain of the too ponderous crown, received without joy and 
resigned without regret. But, in renouncing the vanities of her 
sex, she had obtained no exemption from its fears ; and however 
encouraged by Francis, or sanctioned by the example of her sister 
Margaret, who, since her husband's death, had condescended to 
espouse the Earl of Angus, she was unable to divest herself of 
ominous forebodings ; and dreaded lest Henry should punish her 
temerity by inflicting some signal mark of displeasure on the 
object of her afiection. To avert this calamity, she wrote again, 
frankly confessing her own delinquency, and exonerating Bran- 
don : she admitted that she had been half the wooer, and that 
it had required all her influence to induce him to infringe his 



MARY'S PARDON. 83 

duty ; that she had protested she must be won in four days, or 
never seen again ; that she had even refused to return to England, 
if he declined becoming her husband. In extenuation of her 
own conduct, she avowed her apprehension lest the King's privy 
council should oppose her unequal marriage ; finally, she threw 
herself on his mercy, pathetically beseeching him to save her 
from unspeakable misery and desolation : " and now," she adds, 
" that your Grace knoweth both the ofi"ences of which I alone 
am the occasion, most humbly, and as your most foul sister, I 
request you to pardon our offences ; and that it will please your 
Grace to write to me and the Duke of Suffolk some few gentle 
words, for that is the greatest comfort." 

All the impetuosity of Henry's nature burst forth at this 
clandestine proceeding; but he could not forget that Suffolk had 
been his early friend ; he could not refuse to listen to Francis, who, 
equally from policy and inclination, was become his sister's advo- 
cate. It may, however, be doubted whether that mediation 
would have prevailed, had it not been seconded by Wolsey's 
powerful interest, and by the consolatory reflection, that it was 
better his sister's dower should devolve on one of his own sub- 
jects than on a foreign prince, over whom he could claim no 
allegiance. Influenced by these considerations Henry graciously 
invited Mary and her husband to return to England, where their 
nuptials were again solemnized with suitable pomp and festivity.* 

* In 1515. The May-game, described by Hall, this year, appears to 
have possessed unusual elegance. The King, and the two Queens, and 
their respective attendants, were met at Shooter's Hill by two hundred 
of the King's guard, all habited in green ; one of whom, \mder the as- 
sumed name of Robin Hood, asked permission to show his archery : per- 
mission being granted, he whistled, and all his men at once discharged 



84 MARY'S DOMESTIC HAPPINESS. 

It is wortliy of remark that at the tournament which was expressly 
held in honour of his bride, the Duke of Suffolk exhibited an 
ingenious device, delicately alluding to the circumstance which 
had brought him within the pale of royalty. To the trappings 
of his horse, which were one half cloth of gold, and the other 
cloth of frieze, was appended the following motto :- — 

Cloth of gold, do not despise, 

Tho' thou art match'd with cloth of frieze : 

Cloth of frieze, be not too bold, 

Tho' thou art match'd with cloth of gold.-^ 

Thus happily terminated the trials of Mary j and, what is ex- 
traordinary, it does not appear she had ever cause to repent of 
her romantic attachment; and, amidst the blandishment of a 
court, of which to her last moments she continued to form the 
brightest ornament, she was still distinguished as the devoted 
wife and tender mother. 

their arrows. Again, and again, the same feat was performed ; when 
Robin Hood invited the royal party to come to the Green Wood and see 
how outlaws lived : consent was given, and then the horns blew, till 
they came to an arbour made of boughs, with a hall and a great inner 
chamber, strewed with flowers and sweet herbs, which the King much 
praised. Then said Robin Hood, — "Sir, outlaws' breakfast is venison, 
and therefore you must be content with such fare as we use." Then 
the King and court sat down, and were served with venison and wine, 
to their great contentation. On their return, they were met by two 
ladies, a chariot drawn by five horses, on each of which rode some 
allegorical female, and in the car appeared Flora and May, who saluted 
the King with goodly songs ; and so brought him to Greenwich, in the 
sijrht of the people, to their great joy and solace. 

* See Percy's Reliques, Sir William Temple's Miscellanies. 



CHAPTER III. 

LETTERS AND EMBASSIES OF SIR THOMAS BOLEYN. — THE 
FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 

Queen Claude — Aune's Duties as Maid of Honour — Her Position — 
Education of young Nobles — Anne's Childhood — Rochford Hall — 
Anne's Character — Her Acquirements — Margaret of Alan9on — Her 
Character — Anne's Advantages — French Embassy — A Banquet — Sir 
Thomas Boleyn's Mission — Wolsey's Ambition — His Munificence — His 
Schemes — Sir Thomas Boleyn — His Mission to France — Plis Letters 
to the King — Election of Charles V. as Emperor of Germany — Boleyn's 
Letter — Birth of the Duke of Orleans — Boleyn's Diligence — Condition 
of Henry and Francis — Visit of Charles V. — Henry's visit to Francis 
— The Field of the Cloth of Gold — Meeting of Henry and Francis — 
Henry's Dress — Amusements — Extravagance of the Nobles — The two 
Queens — The Belles of France — Ballads — Francis visits Henry — 
Anne Boleyn at the Masque — End of the Meeting at Guisnes. 

The departure of Mary from France altered not the destination 
of Anne Boleyn. By the mediation of her former mistress she 
was transferred to the wife of Francis, the virtuous Claude, 
whose court, formed on the model of that established by her 
mother, Anne'of Brittany, was crowded with boys and girls, pages 
and maids of honour. It had been the pride of that princess to 
render her palace a seminary of instruction for the young female 
nobility ; and, with a munificence worthy of her rank, she not 
only admitted, but invited to her protection, all who could au- 
thenticate their claims to honourable lineage. According to 
Brantome, three hundred girls were thus enrolled among her 
8 



86 QUEEN CLAUDE. 

pupilS; and half that number included in her retainers and at- 
tendantS; some of whom received no salary;, but lived at the 
Queen's expense^* in apartments remote from those allotted to 
the other sex^ with whom they were seldom permitted to associ- 
ate. f It has been remarked, that she loved power, and affected 
state, and never went, even to chapel, unattended by the royal 
guards. In her female satellites she introduced pageantry of a 
more pleasing cast : wherever she moved, youth and beauty 
heralded her approach, and a succession of blooming girls filed 
through the spacious apartments, alternately to enliven the dull 
labours of, tapestry, or to lend attraction to the noisy pleasures 
of the tournament. 

The reputation of Claude, like that of her predecessor, was 
without blemish; chaste, pious, and superstitious, she required 
from her ladies correct principles and decorous manners. But 
this princess possessed neither her mother's beauty nor talents ; 
and it was her fortune to be united to a man who requited her 
tenderness and obedience with neglect and contempt. Timid, 
gentle, and affectionate, she neither upbraided his infidelities nor 
resented his indifference. Ill health was added to her afflictions ; 
and, whilst Francis was alternately engaged in war, in hunting, 
or in gallantry, Claude lived in seclusion from all public amuse- 
ments, occupied with her children or absorbed in her devotions, 
and apparently rather enduring than enjoying existence. Under 

* Brantome states that some of these young ladies received twenty- 
five livres per annum ; and the salary being generally regulated by the 
age of the parties, children might sometimes he preferred on the princi- 
ple of economy. 

f See Brantome, one of whose near relations was educated Under her 
auspices. 



ANNE BOLEYN AS MAID OF HONOUR. 87 

such a mistress, the maids of honour, if they had few pleasures, 
had also few temptations; and the French court, which in the 
latter period of this reign was destined to become the seat of 
voluptuous vice, appears to have been at that time the school 
of modesty and virtue. It may, perhaps, be asked, what services 
were required of Anne Boleyn, and how far her situation was 
calculated to promote her father's favourite object, that of form- 
ing in his daughter an elegant and accomplished woman ? The 
maids of honour appear to have been always considered rather 
as ornamental than useful : neither serious charge, nor weighty 
responsibility was ever imposed on these fair ministers of royalty, 
whose business it was, like nymphs, to encircle their queen only 
to shed around her the ineffable charm of grace and beauty. 
Accustomed to attend on all public exhibitions of state and 
splendour, to dress with taste, to move with elegance, comprised 
their most important duties : their accomplishments, if any they 
possessed, were reserved for the recreation of her private hours, 
when, according to her humour, they were required to sing, 
dance, work, and pray ; alternately associated in her labours and 
devotions. Finally, their conduct was closely inspected by an 
elderly goiivernante, whose duty it was to maintain amongst them 
strict order and decorum. In the absence of schools and other 
seminaries of instruction, an establishment such as this must 
have offered some equivocal advantages to childhood, and few 
attractions to youth : to the former it might supply habits of 
docility and application, of promptitude and self-possession, emi- 
nently useful in the intercourse of after life j nor was it a^defect 
peculiar to the education received in a court, that it blasted, 
by a specious semblance of maturity, the artless simplicity of 
childhood. Amongst other vices inherent in the system of 



88 CHILDHOOD OF ANNE BOLEYN. 

manners derived from the feudal institutions, it was not tlie 
least, that it abridged what is usually esteemed the best and 
happiest season of human existence : the cheerfulness of infancy 
was soon clouded with care. At four years of age* the sons of 
the nobility commenced their studies ; at six they were initiated 
into the Latin grammar ; at twelve they were introduced into 
company ; at fourteen they exhausted their strength in hunting ; 
at sixteen they were exercised in jousting; and at eighteen, they 
were boldly ushered into public life. The education of girls 
was still more perniciously opposed to simplicity and nature; 
from the earliest period they appear to have been taught to 
imitate the manners, and even to adopt the dress, of grown 
women : at thirteen they were not only disfigured by the stiff 
costumes, but infected with the pride, the vanity, and folly of 
their elder associates. From the moment that they were allowed 
to assume their place at the tournament, they affected to dispense 
smiles and favours on real or pretended votaries ; and whilst, 
glittering with gold and jewels, they began to expatiate on the 
reciprocal duties of the mistress and the servant, they learnt to 
envy the distinctions conferred by the bold successful champion, 
and to sigh for the sovereignty conceded to peerless beauty. 

Of the elementary education of Anne Boleyn, little is known, 
and nothing detailed ; but it is impossible not to suspect that it 
must have been calculated rather to foster pride and vanity, than 
to exercise the sympathies, or create the habits, of domestic life. 
From the cradle, she had been an object of peculiar attention; 
her beauty attracted notice ; her quick parts, and graceful de- 
meanour, called forth spontaneous admiration. It is traditionally 

■5^ See Hardinge's Chronicle ; which, though written under Henry the 
Sixth, describes the customs prevalent in subsequent reigns. 



ROCHFORD HALL. 89 

recorded, that even her jDromising childhood gave some presage 
of greatness ; and in this, as in other instances, the prediction 
might contribute to its own accomplishment. All her impres- 
sions, all the associations of her opening mind, were calculated 
to create or to cherish ambitious sentiments; dreams of splen- 
dour floated around her infant head ; and whilst she was taught 
to lisp the illustrious pedigree of the Howards, she learnt also 
to contemplate, with reverence, the portraits of her father's 
maternal ancestors, and to unravel the complicated genealogies 
of the Botelers or Butlers, and Ormonds, many of whom had 
consecrated, on the scaffold, their fidelity to the house of Lan- 
caster ; nor could it be to her a matter of indifference, that the 
very roof under which she first saw the light had been tenanted 
by more than one royal personage. The manor of Rochford 
was originally conveyed by Henry the Second to a Norman 
knight, who assumed with it the title of Baron Rochford. Under 
Edward the Third, this family becoming extinct, the lordship 
of Rochford, with its stately mansion, was transferred to William 
Bohun, Earl of Northampton, from whose descendants it passed 
by marriage to Thomas of Woodstock, and, from want of male 
heirs, reverted to the crown. A royal grant conferred it on 
Boteler, Earl of Ormond, afterwards created Earl of Wiltshire ; 
but this nobleman was the victim of his devotion to the Red 
Rose, and Rochford Hall, once more bereaved of its lord, came 
into the possession of an illustrious lady, Anne, Duchess of 
Exeter, who received it from her brother, Edward the Fourth. 
By this bigoted princess it was bestowed on the church ; but, 
during that tempestuous period, even the church held its pos- 
sessions by a precarious tenure ; and Rochford Hall was granted 

to Earl Rivers, the father of the celebrated Elizabeth Woodville, 

8* 



90 ANNE'S CHARACTER, 

whom Edward raised to the throne. It would be fanciful to 
suggest that this passage in the traditionary chronicle* of Roch- 
ford Hall might have operated powerfully on Anne Boleyn's 
future character. It iS; however, certain, that the romantic for- 
tunes of the widowed beauty must have been associated with her 
earliest recollections ; and there is a remarkable coincidence in 
the answer which each heroine gave to the solicitations of her 
royal suitor, — '^ I am too good for your mistress, and not worthy 
to become your Queen.'' Another circumstance, trivial in itself, 
might inflame an aspiring temper. Anne recalled, with her 
name, that of a princess, the daughter of the chaste Elizabeth, 
who had actually espoused her mother's brother, the high-spi- 
rited Lord Thomas Howard. With whatever avidity she might 
listen to these nursery tales of hereditary honour, she was rather 
stimulated than discouraged by her aspiring parents, with whom 
pride and ambition must have completely prevailed over nature 
and tenderness, since they parted without reluctance from this 
engaging child, whose happiness and improvement they surren- 
dered to the care of strangers. 

From the moment that she entered Mary's suite, Anne was 
devoted to a life of honourable servitude — an irksome, though 
splendid captivity, in which it probably became her pastime, or 
her solace, to enact, in fancy, the part of a royal bride, and anti- 
cipate the raptures that awaited an idolized Queen. In her per- 
sonal qualities she had a passport to affection ; — frank, sprightly, 
and graceful, she constantly delighted her teachers, and surpassed 
her competitors. Her literary acquirements were not remark- 
able 3 but it may be presumed that, in common with the prin- 

* Morant's Essex. 



IIER EDUCATION. 91 

cesses of France and England,* she had made some proficiency 
in the Latin language; she excelled in music, singing, dancing, 
and all those lighter accomplishments suited to her sex and sta- 
tion. Female cultivation was not in vogue, till the example of 
Sir Thomas More determined Henry the Eighth to imbue his 
daughters with solid learning; and as, with Sir Thomas Boleyn, 
it was the first object of solicitude to see his children brilliant 
and attractive, he eagerly embraced the opportunity of giving 
Anne those more elegant accomplishments which were then 
almost exclusively to be acquired in France. She was, however, 
doomed to consume a large portion of her time in the monoto- 
nous occupation of the needle, and, with other patient victims, 
to pore over the mazes of interminable tapestry. The sombre 
aspect of Claude's court might, perhaps, have checked her native 
buoyancy of spirits, but for the genial influence difiused by Mar- 
garet the Duchess of Alangon.f This princess, the beloved 
sister of Francis the First, was learned and ingenious ; inherit- 
ing her mother's talents without her vices, and participating in 
all her brother's finer qualities, unalloyed by their opposing fol- 
lies : mild and magnanimous, with courage for every trial, and 

^ Dr. Thomas Linacre, the first president of the College of Physi- 
cians, instituted by Henry the Eighth, was preceptor to Mary Queen of 
France, and composed a grammar for her use. 

f Aftei-wards Queen of Navarre. She composed a volume of poems 
called La 3Iarguerite des 3IarguerUes, comprising hymns, spiritual songs, 
and sprightly colloquies in verse, called comedies, and which in some 
degree approximate to the dramatiqucs proverhes, so popular in French 
and Spanish literature. She produced also Les Cent Nouvelles, a work 
which appears to have been highly esteemed by her contemporaries. — 
Most of these tales are said to have been composed in her travelling 
litter, to beguile the irksomeness of a fatiguing journey. 



92 THE DUCHESS OF ALANgON. 

resources for every emergency^ slie devoted lier leisure to letters 
and the arts, and was alternately a lover and a votary of the 
muses. Delighting in the pleasures of conversation, she drew 
to her circle men of wit and learning, and found in the collision 
of kindred minds an intellectual gratification far superior to 
the contemplation of broken lances and prancing steeds, or the 
mummery of masques and pantomimes. From her taste for 
liberal discussion, and the independence of her opinions, she in- 
curred the charge of being well affected to the Lutheran contro- 
versy ; but these first prepossessions, if they ever existed, were 
probably counteracted by the influence of Francis, who had suffi- 
cient penetration to discover the intimate connection between 
civil and religious liberty ; nor is it improbable that Margaret 
was herself too much of a latitudinarian, to enter with ardour 
into the controversies of novel sects or erratic sectaries.* It is 
generally allowed, that she never quitted the pale of the Catho- 
lic church, although she neither dissembled her conviction of its 
errors, nor disguised her contempt for its corruptions. In reality, 
Margaret was a femme d^esprit^ better fitted to appreciate a 
hon mot than to discuss a theological dogma. To the last hour 
of her life she continued to inveigh against the pope, and to 
attend high mass, — to laugh at penances and absolution, yet 
admit a confessor, and occasionally fast like a rigid devotee. 
From such inconsistency the strongest mind is not exempted, 
when to the power of reason is opposed the influence of habit 
and sympathy, and all those nameless feelings and associations 
created in infancy, which form so large a share in the sum of 

* Francis deprecated the new sects, as hostile to existing govern- 
ments. " My sister," said he, "loves me too well, not to be of that 
religion which is most usefvil to the state." 



FRENCH EMBASSY. 93 

every human cliaraetcr. But whatever might be Margaret's 
religious opinions, she was unquestionably the patroness of 
scholars, letters, and the arts ; the friend of poets, scholars, and 
philosophers. Nor can it be doubted that Anne Boleyn derived 
incalculable advantage from her early intercourse with one of 
the most brilliant women of the age ; but her attachment to the 
Reformation, so often attributed to this princess, had probably a 
different source, and was not inspired till a much later period. 

During the eight years that Anne Boleyn resided in France, 
she appears to have had several opportunities of seeing her father, 
whose oflGicial duties conducted him to Paris. It is well kaewn 
that an embassy was not then intrusted to any single individual, 
however eminent or approved; but composed of several distin- 
guished men, whose numerous retinue displayed all the pomp of 
royal magnificence. In 1518, Francis sent to Henry the Bishop 
of Paris and Admiral Bennivet, accompanied by fourscore noble- 
men, whose suite, amounting to the enormous number of twelve 
hundred persons, excited in the populace surprise, not unmixed 
with displeasure ; from the court, however, they experienced a 
most gracious reception. The Earl of Surrey, at the head of the 
English nobility, met their party on Blackheath,* when every 
English gentleman gave his arm to a French cavalier; and in 
this amicable manner they walked two-and-two till they reached 
London; where the admiral was lodged in Merchant-tailors' Hall, 
and his attendants hospitably entertained by the principal citizens. 
The ostensible pretext of this embassy was a contract of marriage 
between two children still in the cradle, — the Dauphin, or, as he 
was called, the Dolphm, of France, and Mary, Princess of Eng- 
land : its real object was the restitution of Tournay to France, 

* Hall. 



94 ENGLISH BANQUET. 

wHcli its monarch hoped to obtain by flattering Henry, and 
bribing Wolsey; but all political objects, whether real or ficti- 
tious; appear to have been absorbed in two splendid entertainments 
successively given by the Cardinal and the King to their foreign 
guests; and it is worthy of remark/ that the first was an evening 
party, approaching, in elegance and refinement, to the style of 
modern manners; whilst the latter was marked by a mixture of 
pedantry, epicurism, and gorgeous mummery, which by prescrip- 
tive right still maintained their place at court, in defiance of the 
King's better taste.* 

* It commenced in the morning, with an oration from Dr. Tunstall, and 
ended at midnight with a banquet. After a sumptuous dinner, which 
might have required Aj ax-like powers of digestion, the ambassado-rs 
were conducted to Whitehall, where stood a rock crowned at the sum- 
mit with five emblematical trees ; of which the first, an olive, bore the 
shield of Papal Rome ; the second, a pine-apple, designated Austria ; 
the third, a rose-bush, was the symbol of England ; on the fourth, a 
branch of lilies, were suspended the arms of France ; the fifth, a 
pomegranate, supported those of Spain. By this pageant was verified 
the mystic union supposed to be formed against the Turks, the common 
enemies of Christendom. In compliment to the espousals, a lady was 
exhibited on the rock, supporting in her lap a dolphin, a troop of knights 
and ladies issued from a cavern, and to a tournay succeeded a masque 
and dancing. For the accommodation of the foreign guests, an extra 
personage was judiciously introduced, who, in the vagug character of 
Report, very obligingly explained in French, the meaning (if any there 
were) of this puerile pastime. After this a banquet was served, at 
which stood a cupboard of twelve stages, consisting of two hundred and 
sixty dishes. 

The scene of the Cardinal's entertainment was York House. After a 
solemn banquet, at which the ladies and gentleman were placed in alterna- 
tion, the company were saluted by minstrels, with whom commenced the 
masquerades : other visitors followed in disguise, by whom cards and 



SIR THOMAS BOLEYN'S MISSION. 95 

Henry piqued himself too much on the punctilios of courtesy, 
not to offer a suitable return for the complaisance of Francis. 
Early in 1519, an embassy proceeded to France, of which the 
Bishop of Ely and the Earl of Worcester were the ostensible 
chiefs, but in which Sir Thomas Boleyn was destined to be the 
efficient personage. They were received with singular respect ; 
and that nothing might be wanting to their satis-faction, a ban- 
queting-house was constructed within the walls of the Bastile, 
where night after night was spent in music and dancing, feasting 
and revelry. Sir Thomas Boleyn had afterwards to take a journey 
into Champagne, for the express purpose of seeing the infant 
dauphin, of whose health and comeliness he transmitted a most 
favourable report. On his return to Paris, affairs of more im- 
portance engrossed his attention : he had in reality to perform a 
complicated task, since he was not only the King's ambassador, 
but the agent of his minister, the emissary and confidant of 
Wolsey. 

To explain this circumstance, it is necessary to revert to the two 
contingencies which in that age excited the strongest interest in 
Europe, — the nomination of a pope, and the election of an em- 
dice were introduced : and after a game of mumcliance, the minstrels 
struck up, and in came twelve gentlemen disguised, with as many ladies : 
the first was the King himself, leading the French Queen ; the second, 
the Duke of Suffolk and Lady Dauheny, the Lord Admiral Howard and 
Lady Guilford, Sir Francis Bryan and Lady Elizabeth Blount ; after thera 
twelve knights disguised bearing torches. All these thirty-six persons 
were dressed in green, and danced together. The ladies wore tires 
made of braids of damask gold, with long hairs of white gold. All these 
masquers danced at one time : at length their vizors were discarded ; 
and the ambassadors recognising the King, returned him liearty thanks 
for his courtesy. 



96 WOLSEY'S AMBITION. 

peror. One of these critical moments was now eagerly anticipated 
from the approaching dissolution of Maximilian. Among the 
candidates for the imperial crown, Francis and Charles of Castile 
were the most prominent personages. Nor was it possible that 
Henry should remain a passive spectator of the contest : his first 
impulse had been to grasp the envied diadem to himself; the 
next to secure it to his nephew Charles ; but Wolsey, for whom 
Francis had lately procured a cardinal's hat, suspended his pur- 
pose, until he should have ascertained which of the two com- 
petitors would be the most competent to secure his own elevation 
to the papal chair — that dignity which was henceforth to be the 
ultimate object of all his political intrigues and versatile specu- 
lation. Could Wolsey have recalled the waking dreams of his 
humble youth, he might have recoiled with momentary terror 
from the gigantic phantom which now filled his imagination. 
A few years since to have possessed an episcopal see might have 
contented his utmost wishes : he had now three bishoprics, ex- 
clusive of the archiepiscopal see of York ; the G-reat Seal of Eng- 
land was committed to his hands ; and by the Pope's authority, 
he had lately assumed the control of a legatine court, which in- 
vested him with absolute supremacy in cases of ecclesiastical juris- 
diction ; yet Wolsey was not satisfied ; for there still remained 
in St. Peter's chair a pinnacle of solitary pre-eminence that could 
alone appease his restless ambition ; and he panted for the mo- 
ment when he should no longer be the favourite but the ruler 
of kings, and the sacred arbiter of Europe. In cherishing these 
dreams of grandeur, it is but just to acknowledge that he im- 
bibed a spirit of princely munificence. In some degree his vices 
were emblazoned by his genius ; and, like another Leo, he drew 
to his palace men of kindred talents ; patronized the useful and 



HIS SCHEMES. 9T 

ornamental arts ; encouraged and protected scholars and authors ; 
founded schools and colleges ; and in part atoned for his ostenta- 
tion and arrogance by acts of liberality and beneficence.* The 
regeneration of the Catholic church was one of Wolsey's great 
projects; and with the zeal of a reformer, he instituted a rigid 
inquisition respecting monasteries, discouraged the monastic life, 
and unintentionally furnished a precedent for the future suppres- 
sion of religious orders. Above all, in disseminating instruction 
for youth, this self-created pope accelerated the progress of that 
reformation, which he most deprecated, and most desired to 
suppress. 

With what precise views Wolsey persisted in seeking the 
papacy, it is now useless to inquire, and futile to conjecture. 
Among other schemes, he is said to have entertained the idea of 
combining, in a confederacy against the Turks, all the powers 
of Christendom, and perhaps redeeming the city of Constantino 
from Mahometan thraldom. For the present, it was sufficient 
that he desired to render himself independent of a young capri- 
cious prince, whose favour could alone be kept, as won, by sub- 
mission and adulation. 

Amongst the confidential agents, to whom his interests were 
intrusted, it may seem strange, that he should have selected Sir 
Thomas Boleyn, the son-in-law of the Duke of Norfolk, who 

* Eramus mentions, with praise, the scholars and divines domesti- 
cated at his table ; his chaplains were all learned men. Wolsey founded 
several colleges and schools, and suppressed, at his first visitation, many 
religious houses. Amongst other useful societies, of which he was the 
foxmder or the protector, the College of Physicians was, by his influence 
embodied under Henry the Eighth. 

9 



98 CHARACTER OE SIR THOMAS BOLEYN. 

laad been among tlie first to rebuke liis arrogance, and was not 
the last to experience bis resentment. 

At the commencement of his career, Sir Thomas Boleyn had 
aspired but to be a courtier : to this character he now added that 
of a statesman ; and it required no extraordinary effort of saga- 
city to discover, that the King's favourite was greater than the 
first peer in England, and that, should the house of Howard 
stand or fall, no better friend could be found than the oracle of 
his sovereign. It is, however, but just to remark, that, in be- 
coming Wolsey's agent, he was neither his minion nor his syco- 
phant, and that in political transactions, he extorted esteem by 
his honourable punctuality; opposing discretion to craft; to 
vacillation, firmness ; and to treachery, fidelity. Without shin- 
ing parts, he maintained his ground against eminent men ; and 
without literary talents, acquired the reputation of a scholar, 
and the respect due to a patron of letters. More cautious than 
enterprising, he appears to have been considered as the safety- 
valve of every treaty or negotiation in which he assumed a part, 
and, as prudence prompted the suggestions, success commonly 
crowned the efforts, of Sir Thomas Boleyn.^ In the embassy 
to France (in 1519) he was chosen by Henry to adjust with 
Francis the ceremonial of his intended interview with that 
prince, in Picardy, and authorized to amuse him with fair pro- 
fessions respecting the imperial election. At the same time, he 
was commissioned by Wolsey to ascertain the intentions and 
abilities of the French monarch, in recommending a candidate 
to the papal see. The difference of these objects is distinctly 
traced in a regular correspondence which the ambassador con- 

* See Loyd's Worthies. But the character is exaggerated.— Sir 
Thomas Boleyn is also celebrated by Erasmus. 



HIS LETTER TO THE KING. 99 

tinued with Henry and Wolsey ; and in which, some few sub- 
jects of national interest, such as the indemnity of English 
merchants, or the security of the English flag, are occasionally 
introduced, in such a manner as plainly shows they were consi- 
dered of minor importance. 

The two following letters, written by Sir Thomas Boleyn, on 
the same day, to the King and the Cardinal, coincide in exem- 
plifying the elegant gallantry of Francis, and in describing the 
mixture of rudeness and mas-nificence that characterized his 
court : — 

Parl^, March 14, 1519.* 
" To the King.f 
^^Pleasyth it yo"" highnesse to understand that yesterday I 
delivered yo' letter to the king here, w'' as harty and effectuous 
recomendacions from your grace as I could devise ; and after he 
had at length and w'' good playsure read over yo"" said letter, I 
declared to him, for my credence, according to the instruecions 
which yo' grace late sent me, first the effect of yo"" sa"^ letter. 
And after I shewed him how great desire yo' grace hath for the 
increase of his hono"", and what pleasure and consolation yo"" high- 
nesse taketh in the same, considering the unfeyned amity and 
alliance that is established betwixt you both, which yo' grace 
believeth to be so rooted in yo' hearts, that what high honour 
or advancement shall fortune to come to him, the fruit thereof 
shuld redonde to yo' highnesse ; whcrefor to advaunce him to the 
preferment of this imperial dignitie, yo"" grace, upon knowledge 
of his further intent and mind, shal be glad to employe yself, 

* Cotton MSS. Caligula, D. VII. 48. 

f In these letters, the more uncouth peculiarities of the old ortho- 
graphy are correctetl. 



100 BOLEYN'S LETTER TO THE KING. 

as well by word and writing, as by acts and deeds, to the best 
of your power, whereupon lie may assuredly trust ; wbereunto 
he, taking off bis bonett, tlianked heartily yo'" highnesse, and 
sayd that the great love and favor which he well percciveth that 
yo*" grace bearyth towardes him is the greatest comfort that he 
hath upon earth, and for the great bono' that yo' grace sheweth 
to him in advancing him to the imperiall dignitie, which is his 
most desire, he saith he knoweth not how nor by what meanes^l 
he may recompence yo"" highnesse in doing any thing so moch 
for yo"" grace, but he sayeth, as long as he liveth, in any thing 
that he may doo that shal be to yo'' pleasure, he shall always be 
as ready and as glad to do it as he would be to do for himself, 
and desireth no thing more than to have knowledge wherein he 
might employe himself to do yo'' highnesse some pleasure. Re- 
hearsing to me that by the reason of the perfecte love and 
aliaunce betwixt you both, he reckoneth yo' highnesse to be of 
great might and power, saying that what with yo"" owne puissance 
and with his help, which he saith yo'" grace shall alwayes have 
ready at yo*" commandment, there is neither honno', dignitie, nor 
other thing in Chrystendome, but that yo'' highnesse shall attain 
and order it at yo" own pleasure, and told me that he could not 
expresse to meet with his tongue the due thanks that he giveth 
y'" g'^^ in his heart, for the loving kindnesse that he found in yo*" 
highnesse, and sayd that when ye both mete, which he trusts 
shall be shortly, your grace shall knowe his hart, no man lyving 
better ; whereunto I sayd that yo'" highnesse thanked him spe- 
cially, causid that amongs all his other things and great affaires, 
he is so much desirous to meet, visit and see yo"" grace, and told 
him of your conformable mind thereunto, shewing to him 
the time, place, and manner as is at length expressed in the 



HIS LETTER TO WOLSEY. 101. 

instructions that I ha ... . whereunto he said that he is deter- 
mined to see yo"" grace, though he should come but himself, his 
page, and his lacquey, and that no business shall lette it : how 
be it, for the time, place, and order of the meeting, he said 
he would commune w' the great master, and w'in ij or iij dayes 
he wold send him to Paris, where he should make me answer 
of every article concerning the said entreview and meeting ; and 
because that the queue here hath been very sicke thies ij dayes, 
and in great daunger ; as I have more at large written of the 
same to my Lord Legat and Cardinall of England, which I know 
sure woll shewe yo"" grace thereof. I can as yet have no answer 
what order shal be taken for the marchaunts matiers. Beseching 
the Holy Trinity long to preserve yo"" highnesse. From Paris 
this xiiij"" day of March." 



Paris, March 14, 1519.* 
^^ Pleaseth it yo' grace to understand, that the xith day of 
this month I wrot to your grace my last letters, and the same 
day at afternoon the queen head and my ladyf took thier journey 
and went in horse-litters from hence to have gone towardes Saint 
Germayn, vi leagues out of this towne, where is prepaired for 
her to be in chylde bedde ; but the same afternoon by the way 
the queen was so troubled with sickness, that she was fain to 
take her lodging at a very small village, ii leagues out of this 
towne, which is called La Porte de Neilly ; and that night she 
was in great danger, insomuch as word came to this towne the 
next morning that she was dead, and soon after the bruit ran 
through all this town, that she was delivered of a son, but 

* Cotton MS. Caligula, D. VII. 47. 

I Louisa, Duchess of Angouleme, the mother of Francis. 
9 * 



102 BOLEYN'S LETTER TO WOLSEY. 

neither is true : this caused me that I went not to the court on 
Saturday^ as I was appointed; w' the great master ; but yester- 
day, the king knowing that I had letters to him, sent for me to 
come to him thither, where I saw the king's lodging, and the 
queue's, and my lady, the king's mother, and the Duchesse of 
Alaunsons, and the great masters at the village above said, Grod 
knoweth, full poorly lodged, but that it is well dressed with 
good stuffs. The great master hath no chimney in his chamber, 
but there is a great oven, and this order is taken for the quene, 
that if she may have health to be conveyed by water from this 
village to Saint Grermayn, she shall be had thither, and close 
barges with chambers made in them be ordained for that pur- 
pose : if not, by force she must remayn and be delyvered there ; 
as she shall do, I shall send yo"" grace word. 

^^ And whan I came to La Porte de Neilly, where at my coming 
the king was at dinner, and the great master had dined, the 
great master took me by the arm, and led me in to a little low 
house, where the king dyned, and as soon as he rose from dinner 
he came to me, and bad me to come w*'' him, into his bed- 
chamber, for a lowe there was too many folks. So I went to 
his chamber, with him, the great master, and Robert, and no 
more, where I delivered the king's letters, and had answers of 
the same, as by a letter that I this tyme adressyd to the king's 
highnesse your grace may perceive. That doon, I delivered to 
him a letter from y'" grace, with humble recomendacions as I 
could devise, and told him half, that next vnto the king's high- 
nesse yo"" grace would always do vnto him above all other princes 
the honourable service and pleasure that may lie in your power, 
and as much ye shall tender his exaltation, weale, and suretie, as 
any other shall do, as by experience he shall right well perceive. 



BOLEYN'S LETTER TO WOLSEY. 103 

" Whereto he answered me, that he knew by experience the 
good-will and favour that yo'" grace beareth to him in his affaires, 
and said that yo"" grace was the first that ever he counselled with 
for this aliaunce, which by yo"" great wisdome and policy, hath 
taken so great travaill and pain for him that it is to his great 
honnor and comfort, and the weal of him and all his subjects. 
iVnd he beseeching yo"" grace that ye will let for no pains but as 
ye have begun that it woul please you so to continue, and on his 
behalf, he saith your grace shall not find him towardes you in- 
grate nor forgetful, and sayeth that in recompence of that ye 
have done for him, and trusteth will do for him, and for the 
singular love and favour which he beareth to you, considering 
that ye be a man of the church and one of the greatest and most 
principal, he saith, he thinketh, it is in the king's highnesse 
and in him to do you most good, which he promiseth by the 
word of a king to do for yo'" grace, if it please you to accept it; 
and thus he hath desired me to write to you, that if it please 
you to pretend to be the head of the church, if in case any thing 
shuld fall of the pope, he sayeth, he will assure you first xiiij 
cardinalls for him ; also, of the compaynes which be in devision, 
the Colonnas and the Ursinas at Rome, he will assure you the 
whole company of the Ursinas ; he reckoneth also a great help 
of one he calleth a valiant man, and of great reputacion there, 
Marcautyn de Colompna ; and finally assuredly reckons that now 
the king's highnesse and he be all one, that there shall neither 
emperor nor pope be made, but such as pleaseth them : he also 
told me, that this offer that he maketh yo"" grace proceedeth of 
perfect love and inward trust that he hath in the king's high- 
nesse ', he sayeth, if he had not more trust and confidence in him 
than in any other prince living, he wold be loth that any other 



104 EOLEYN'S LETTER TO WOLSEY 



man shiild be pope : this, witb. more, whereof this is the sum, 
he told me, how he is minded to do for your grace. If your 
grace accept not this offer, I think he will do his best for some 
of his own cardinalls, if any such chance fall. After this, that 
I had been more than an hour with the king, alone, came unto 
him the ambassador of Denmark, who, after he had been awhile 
w' the king, a servant of his was called to be trushman* be- 
twixt them, and then was called in the Duke of Albanye.f What 
the matter is, I know not, but the Duke of Albanye is made 
privy to it. At what tyme the great master toold me that the 
Duke of Albanye shuld be at the meting of the king's highnesse 
and the king here ; and also an ambassado"" out of Scotland, 
where he saied he trusted some good conclusion shuld be taken 
for the Duke of Albanye ', also the great master told me, that 
the king his master and he devised of yo' grace, rehersing in 
effecte the substance, how he is minded to do for yo' grace, as I 
have written afore ; also the great master told me, that if the 
sicknesse of the queen here had not been, he shuld have taken 
his journey as to-morow to Montpelier ward, and bad me write, 
assuredly that there shall no thing be there treated nor concluded 
but yo'' grace shall be advertysed of y* ; he hath also desired of 
me the copy of the billj of the nombre of such persones as shall 
come w' the king's highnesse to the meting, which I have deli- 
vered to him; he hath also promised me, that I shall have 
answer w*in thies iii dayes, of every article touching the meting, 
and entreview, and also the order of redresse of the merchaunts, 

"^ Interpreter. 

f The Duke of Albany was fomenting troubles in Scotland. 
X A list of the English persons to be present at the interview be- 
tween Henry and Francis in Picardv. 



ELEC nON OF CHARLES V. 105 

which, as soone as I can have, I shall send to yo"" grace w' all 
diligence; beseching the Holy Trynyte, long to preserve yo" 
gee. From Parys, this xiiijth day of March. 

Youres most bound."* 
" To myn most especiall and singular good lord, 

my Lord Legat, Cardinall, and Chaunceler of 

England." 

The contest for the crown of Ccesar having terminated, Sir 
Thomas Boleyn hastily announces the election of Charles the 
Fifth, not without noticing the wayward attempts of the Duch- 
ess Louisa to disguise her chagrin and disappointment. 

" Pleasith y* youre grace to understand, that the first day of 
this month I wrote my last letters to your grace, and as yet the 
king is not ret'rned from Melun, where he hath been almost this 
fortnight a hunting. But hither is come letters w' great diligence 
to the king catholiques ambassadour from Frankfort, and from 
my lady of Savoye,f specifying how the king her master the 
xxviij day of the last month, at x of the clocke afore noon, by 
the assent and voices of all the electours, was chosen empcro"", and 
because there is yet no letters come out of Almayn to the king 
nor my lady here of this matter, my lady marvelleth much, and 
sayth she feareth that Mons. L'Admirall;]: is letted or evill in- 
treatyd, because she hath no word from him, or else their post 

* From the tenor of the foregoing letters, it should seem that Sir 
Thomas Boleyn had no suspicion of the duplicity which Henry prac- 
tised on this occasion ; but it is notorious, that Dr. Pace, another confi- 
dential agent, had been despatched to Germany, with positive orders 
to promote the interest of Charles the Fifth. 

f Margaret, Governess of the Netherlands. 

J Bonivet. 



106 BIETH OF THE DUKE OF ORLEANS. . 

w* letters is taken or stopped by the way. Neverthelesse my 
lady sayth if this be true saying, the king her sonne may nat be 
empero"", she is right glad that the king catholique is chosen; 
saying that though the king her sonne is not empero', yet it is a 
comfort to her that the king her sonnes son in law is empero^''' 
How be it the truth is, that both the king and my lady, and all 
this court; had rather any other had been chosen empero*" than 
the king catholique. My lady telleth me that she is assured it 
hath cost him a great good to atteyn to this empire, insomuch 
she sayth she knoweth for a truth, one of the electours hath had 
of him ii hundreth thousand crownes, and naming him of Co- 
loigne. She sayth also that the electours amongst them all hath 
not had of the king here.'^f 

The birth of Henry, Duke of Orleans,^ furnished a different 
subject of correspondence; and, as might be expected, Sir Thomas 
Boleyn minutely details the ceremony of his christening, which 
was performed at midnight, Henry being himself one of the 
sponsors. On this occasion, the ambassador presented to the 
French Queen the salt-spoon^ the cup, and layer of gold, which 
were graciously received ; ^^and the King came, and thanked the 
King's Highnesse of the great honor that he had done him; 
saying, that whenever it shall fortune his Highnesse to have a 
child, he shall be glad to do for him in like manner."§ In con- 

■^ At that time Charles was contracted to the second daughter of 
Francis, Louisa, who died before the age of nine years. 

f The duchess was mistaken in this calculation : it was, in reality, 
Francis, and not Charles, who had expended large sums in bribing the 
electors. 

J Afterwards Henry the Second. 

2 The ambassador then details in what manner he had distributed 



DETAILS OF THE CHllISTENING. 107 

eluding his letter, Sir Thomas Bolejn observes with character- 
istic caution, ^^ There is much speaking in the country, and 
more at Paris, of many strange bruits, whereof this bearer can 
show your Grace by mouth." 

the hundred pounds intrusted to his discretion. '<And the hundreth 
pounds that your grace sent to reward is bestowed as followeth ; first, 
the nurse one hundred crownes; to iiij rockers of the yong duke's 
chamber ij hundreth crownes ; to iij gentillwomen of the queue's privy 
chamber, called Femes de Re, a hundreth and fyfty crownes ; and at 
the offering xx nobles, which amounteth in all to the some of one hun- 
dreth pounds sterling, and xv crownes over, all which money was paid 

and delyvered by the hands of York, bearer, and Richmont, 

which can shewe your grace well enough thereof. 

"Furthermore, as this bearer can shewe your grace, have been with 
me at my lodging, the king's officers at arms which with importune 

asked reward, saying, that the Duke of Urbino at the christening 

of the Dolphin, rewarded them, and with the best answer that I could 
make them, nothing apaised, they went away discontent ; neverthelesse 
I hear by honourable folks here, that the gift to the queen, and the 
money that is given in reward, is sufficiently honorably and largely 
enough for the king's hon'". 

*'I have also laid out xil. xiJ5. in sending divers times min own folks, 
and other, that I have hired, to your grace into England, and to Calais, 
with letters in post and otherwise, the which xi/. xijs. and xv crownes 
that I have layd out now, more than the hundreth poundes that your 
grace sent me by York, to give in reward, is owing me, and for as 
moch as the last money that your grace sent me for a hundreth dayes 
ended the xxvth day of May, last, I beseech you both to send me such 
diet money, as shall best please your grace, and that the said xil. xijs. 
and XV crownes that is owing me may be also delivered to my priest, 
which shall attend upon your grace for it. 

" Also, I receyved yesterevcn from your grace a letter dated the 
xxviijth day of May, concernyng the marchants matters, and divers 



108 COALITION OF HENRY AND FRANCIS. 

Althougli these diplomatic records afford not any interesting 
information^ respecting the state of Sir Thomas Boleyn's family, 
they furnish ample proofs of the diligence and punctuality with 
which he discharged his official duties, and almost lead us to 
regret that he should have been an obsequious courtier. 

It is no small source of amusement to a reflective mind to 
compare characters and events, of whi(ih time and experience 
have taught us to form a correct judgment, with the opinions 
once entertained of their relative value and importance. In the 
year 1520, no crisis was anticipated by the Pope, or the clergy, 
although Luther had already launched the bolt, with whose 
reverberation the powers of the Vatican were soon to tremble. 
On the eve of the most astonishing revolution ever achieved by 
human agency, no alarm appears to have been experienced ; 
neither statesmen nor cavaliers had leisure for the controversy 
between Luther and Tetzlar, whilst all Europe looked to the 
coalition of Henry and Francis, as the prelude of some political 
drama, in which each of these great princes was to enact an im- 
portant part. Endless were the questions and consultations, and 
voluminous the instructions preliminary to this celebrated event. 
Amidst a negotiation frivolous and elaborate as the process of a 
Provenyal court of love, one trait of political gallantry deserves 
notice : — Aware of Henry's predilection for the age of Edward 
the Third, the King of France submitted to him, whether he 
should not, in imitation of the Black Prince, have his dinner 

other tilings, whereof after I have spoken w' the king, my lady, or the 
cotinsell here, I shall wryte to youi^ grace such aunswer as I shall have 
of them w* diligence. 

*'To myn most especiall and singular good lord, my Lord 
Legat, Cardinall, and Chauncellorof England." 



VISIT OF CHARLES V. 109 

served and carved on horsehacJc.^ Althougli this proposition 
was negatived^ in every other instance the ordonnances of chi- 
valry were to be religiously observed ; and it was especially sti- 
j)ulatedj that, in the ensuing joust, the number of strokes given 
on either side should be referred to tJie ladies ! Finally, after 
a longer interval than had been spent by the Edwards and 
Henrys of former days, in acquiring the fairest provinces of 
France, the plain of Guisnes was chosen for the interview. f At 
this critical moment the young Emperor, in his passage to Flan- 
ders, approached the English coast, when, under pretence of 
paying his respects to his aunt Catherine, he threw himself on 
Henry's generosity, and voluntarily came to his court without 
a single precaution for safety and protection. Charmed with 
this proof of confidence, Henry was easily persuaded to pledge 
his friendship to the avowed rival of that prince, whom he was 
about to visit as an ally and a brother. From Catherine Charles 
received not only a cordial, but a tender welcome, whilst the 
ladies of her court lavished on him smiles and blandishments ; 
but at the sight of Mary,J the beautiful French Queen, to whom 
he had once been contracted, he was observed to sigh and to 
betray unwonted sadness ; and to this sentiment was attributed 
his refusal to dance, and an obvious indifiercnce to all those 
gayeties which were usually found so attractive. In the sequel, 

* Herbert. 

•j- In Picarcly. 

J " Peradventurc tlie siglit of tlie Lady Mary troubled Lira, -whom 

he had sometime loved." Hall. — Many romantic tales were fabricated 

of his imaginary attachment : the princess herself was pretended to 

have avowed a passion for this prince, whom she had never seen, and 

who was then a boy of thirteen, when she looked at his portrait three 

times every dav- 
10 



110 HENRY'S VISIT TO FRANCIS I. 

it appeared that Wolsey's favour was tlie prize he hoped to win, 
and Henry's vanity the mistress he sought to captivate ; and 
with such address was each flattered in his master-passion, that, 
at parting, he obtained a solemn promise, that a return should he 
made to his visit in Flanders before the royal party came back 
to England. "Within a few dav« after Charles had re-embarked, 
Henry was wafted to the coast of France, acccompanied by 
his Queen, his sister Mary, her husband, and the most dis- 
tinguished English nobility. At some little distance from 
the town of Guisnes, a temporary palace was prepared for 
Henry's reception, which the combined powers of English and 
Flemish mechanism had rendered rare and beautiful as the 
marvellous house constructed for Aladdin by his obedient genii. 
It is not improbable, that the plan of this curious edifice was 
suggested by one of those magnificent descriptions so common 
in tales of chivalry, which formed the popular reading of the day. 
According to Hall,* it might have been called the Palace of 

* " At the entering into the palace, before the gate on the plain was 
builded a fountain of embowed work, gilt with fine gold, and bice in- 
grailed with antihe work ; the old god of wine called Bacchiis, birling 
the wine, which by the conduits in the earth, ran to all people plente- 
ously with red, white, and claret wine, over whose head was written in 
letters of Roman, in gold, '■ fadte bonne cMre qui voiildra.^ On the other 
hand or side of the gate, was set a pillar, which was of ancient Roman 
work, borne with four lions of gold. The pillars wrapped in a wreath 
of gold, curiously wrought, and introiled, and on the summit of the said 
pillar stood an image of the blind god Cupid, with his bow and arrows 
of love, ready by his seeming, to strike the young people to love. The 
foregate of the same palace or place with great and mighty masonry 
was arched, with a tower on every side of the same part reared by great 
craft ; and embattled was the gate and tower, and in the fenestres and 



I 



THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. Ill 

Illusion ; but, abstracted from fancy and flattery, it appears to 
have been formed of moveable planks of timber, and covered with 
canvass so well painted as to resemble stone. Within, it was 
hung with arras and tapestry, the most rich and tasteful that 
the looms of Ghent and Antwerp could supply : but after all 
these efforts of ingenuity, it was found totally inadequate to 
the occasion ; since 2500 of the King's suite had no better resource 
than to lodge in ten^s, of which the inside was hung with white 
cloth, richly embroidered and surmounted by the union rose, 
interlaced with the fleur-de-lys. The spot selected for this en- 
campment, was about half a league beyond the town of Gruisnes, 
and about the same distance from the town of Ardres, in whose 
castle lodged Francis and his gallant court. Whilst Henry and 
his retinue, like crusaders, remained in their splendid pavilions, 
necessity must have led to a diff"erent distribution of the quad- 
rupeds in his train, of which the horses alone amounted to the 
enormous number of 4326. To these, according to previous sti- 
pulation, an equal number was opposed by the French party : thus 
the cordial meeting, which was to form an eternal union of friend- 
ship, resembled the clashing of two hostile armies, and seemed 
rather calculated to create impressions of distrust and jealousy, 
than to suggest images of peace and amity, hospitality and con- 
windows were images resembling men of war, ready to cast great stones. 
Also the same gate, or tower, was set with compassed images of ancient 
princes, as Hercules, Alexander, and others. 

" By the same gate all people passed into a large court, fair and beau- 
tiful ; for in this court appeared much of the outward beauty of the 
place. Far from the first cleare table were bale windows (i. e. green 
lattices) on every side mixed with stories, curiously glazed, the posts 
or moinels of every window were gilt." 



112 MEETING OF HENRY AND FRANCIS. 

cord. It was on the tenth of June that the two Kings were first 
confronted ; and so desirous was each prince to commemorate the 
interesting moment^ that draftsmen were retained in either camp 
to delineate the prominent features of the scene^ and authors 
employed to transmit to posterity its most trifling incidents.* 
On that auspicious mornings Henry rode forth on horseback 
towards ArdreS; while Francis in like manner advanced towards 
Guisnes. A momentary impression of distrust is said to have 
passed over Henry's i^iind ; but it was quickly dissipated^ and, 
spurring on his steed, wii'n undaunted confidence, he advanced 
before his attendants. No sooner had Francis perceived the 
movement than he also came, and with an equally generous 
impulse received his royal guest. In an instant both princes 
encountered each other, when each touched his bonnet ; and each 
alighting, the two princes eagerly embraced with every demon- 
stration of fraternal affection ; then walked arm in arm around 
the encampment, amidst the fixed gaze and rapturous acclama- 
tions of countless spectators. Their respective attendants, with a 
simultaneous movement, rushed also to each others' arms; French- 
men and Englishmen embraced and walked together ; national 
prejudices seemed suspended ; ancient rivalry yielded to involun- 
tary sympathy, and the generous emulation of honour, loyalty, 
and courtesy. Much of this enthusiasm might perhaps be attri- 
buted to the novelty of the spectacle, and still more to its mag- 

* Hall the clironicler (the recorder of London) attended by Henry's 
command. Fleuranges, and other men of talents, were in the French 
camp. From the sketches taken by the English artist, Holbein composed 
the celebrated picture long in Windsor Castle, but presented by His late 
Majesty to the Society of Antiquaries. Similar sketches were made by 
the French artists. 



I 



THEIR DRESSES AND APPEARANCE. 113 

nificence. ^' I wel] perceived/' says Hall, ^^ the habiliments 
royal of the French King : his garment was a chemew of cloth 
of silver, culponed with cloth of gold, of damask cautelwise, and 
guarded on the borders with the Burgon band.'^"^ The dress of 
Henry, who delighted in finery, was equally superb : even on ordi- 
nary occasions he was accustomed to make an ostentatious display 
of jewels — in the collar of balas rubies pendent from his neck,"!* 
the diamonds inserted in his bonnet, and the rings clustering 
round his fingers. On this day, in addition to the ruby which 
he usually wore, on which was enamelled the battle of Bosworth 
Field, he displayed a profusion of emeralds, and other precious 
stones, which gave him a truly regal appearance. His courtiers 
vied in splendour with the attendants of Francis : the French 
soldiers appeared in uniforms of blue and yellow, emblazoned 
with the badge of Francis, the Salamander, emblematic of the 

^ "Over tliat," continues the chronicler, " he had a cloak of broached 
satin, with gold of purple colour, wrapped about his body, traverse 
beded from the shoulder to the waist, fastened in the loup of the first 
fould ; this cloak was richly set with pearls and pretious stones. The 
French king had on his head a coif of damask gold set with diamonds, and 
his courser that he rode on was covered with a trapper of tissue, brodered 
with device, cut in fashion mantell-wise ; the skirts were embowed and 
fret with frized work, and knit with corbelles and buttons tasseled of 
Turkic ; making raines and headstall answering to the same work." 

Having thus descanted on the monai'ch's dress. Hall devotes but few 
words to his person. "And verelie of his person the same Francis, a 
goodlie prince, statelie of countenance, merrie of cheere, browne coloured, 
great eyes, high nosed, big lipped, fair brested, broad shoulders, small 
legges, and long feete." 

f This collar, by order of Charles the First, was sold beyond sea by 
the Duke of Buckingham and Lord Holland. See Archseologia. 
10 ''^ 



-114 AMUSEMENTS . 

motto — ^^ I nourish tlie good^ extinguisli tlie guilty." Henry 
and ttie English cavaliers wore on their crests the hawthorn, — 
that cherished, though humble badge, for ever endeared to the 
house of Lancaster, from the circumstance of Henry the Seventh 
having placed on his head, in Bosworth Field, the crown of 
England, which had been discovered in a hawthorn-bush. After 
the first ceremonies, the two kings withdrew to a tent of cloth 
of gold : on this spot, after reiterated congratulations, Henry 
began, pro forma, to read the articles, when, instead of desig- 
nating himself the King of France, he stopped abruptly after ^'I 
Henry, King of England," and laughing, exclaimed, ^^No, not 
the King of France ; I should be an impostor if I claimed that 
title ', for the King of France is here." The rest of the day was 
not spent in political deliberation, but in making arrangements 
for pleasure, and in promoting mirth and revelry; from this 
moment commenced a jubilee, such as Europe had never wit- 
nessed; in which jousting, drinking, music, and dancing, inter- 
mingled in unceasing rotation. The amusements of the day 
encroached on the slumbers of the night; and from one tent to 
another resounded mirth, and minstrelsy, and joyous acclama- 
tion. A constant interchange of visits took place between the 
two courts, and the plain of Guisnes presented, at the same 
moment, the novel sight of queens, or ladies, passing in horse- 
litters, or magnificent tents thrown open for 4%,% accommodation 
of noble guests. Adjoining the palace werejwo conduits, con- 
tinually replenished with wine, which was offered without dis- 
tinction to all comers ; contiguous to these, were two immense 
ovens, and culinary offices, in which the cooks, like the Cyclops, 
toiled incessantly, to satisfy the clamorous multitude. All the 
gradations of society were here exhibited, from the sovereign, 



I 



THE TWO QUEENS. 115 

to whose table was borne tlie superb service of plate, to the 
temporary tabaret or booth, in which the vulgar passenger dearly 
purchased some trifling refreshment. An immense concourse 
of foreigners flocked to the spectacle ; many of whom could pro- 
cure no better accommodation than a booth and a truss of straw. 
Of the French and English nobility, many carried their estates 
on their backs, or mortgaged, for many years to come, the amount 
of their revenues. During the fortnight that Henry remained 
at Guisnes, prodigality obtained the praise of munificence, and 
decency was outraged in the name of hospitality : day after day, 
came vagrants, artisans, and labourers, to drink and carouse, who 
afterwards lay stretched on the ground in brutal insensibility. 
Amidst these licentious excesses, high-mass was celebrated with 
the most imposing pageantry ; the two monarchs sitting in chairs 
of state, on either side of the altar, where stood Wolsey between 
them to perform the sacerdotal office. The finest singers in 
France assisted in the vocal part of this solemnity ; but Wolsey 
was the prominent personage. After having presented to the 
two monarchs the Gospel and the pix, which each with reverence 
pressed to his lips, he advanced to the Queens Claude and Cathe- 
rine, who sat side by side, in a separate oratory ; but these prin- 
cesses, who really felt for each other the cordial good-will which 
their lords aff"ected, instead of kissing the pix, tenderly embraced, 
and thus ofi'ered, before God and man, a pledge of amity, and 
love, and concord. In the tournament was concentrated the 
magnificence of both parties. On either side three hundred 
cavaliers entered the lists : Francis and his train appeared in 
puri^le spangled with gold ; whilst Henry and his band wore 
russet satin, wreathed with eglantine, of which the device is 
^^ sweet, and pleamnt, and f/rrm, if I'indJy tonehed ; hut if 



116 THE BELLES OF FRANCE. 

rudely handled it may prich and wound." To interj^ret these 
deviceS; some of which were intricate as the riddle of (Edipus,* 
mtfst have formed a constant source of amusement to the spec- 
tators ; nor was the royal balcony, which the queens and prin- 
cesses and their ladies occupied, a less prominent object of atten- 
tion. It is reluctantly admitted by our national chronicler, that 
the belles of France surpassed the English fair, in the richness 
and elegance of their habiliments. A spleneticj" writer has, 
indeed, insinuated that the Grallic costume was injurious to female 
modesty ; but there appears to have been no other foundation for 
this censure, than that the French ladies judiciously appropria- 
ted a lighter dress to dancing, divested of those cumbrous orna- 
ments, which must have equally checked the elasticity or de- 
stroyed the grace of their movements. 

The intercourse between Claude and Catherine appears not to 
have been merely courteous, but affectionate. The royal party, 
embellished by the beautiful Queen Mary, and enlivened by the 
witty Duchess of Alangon, included also her mother, the inge- 
nious, though profligate Louisa, Duchess of Angouleme. In the 
French, as at the English court, the ladies dined at a separate 
table ; but it was observed by Fleuranges, J that having first 

* Of these devices, one of tlie most conspicuous was, <' a man's heart 
burning in the hand of a lady, who held," says Hall, " a garden-pot 
stilling on the heart." The robes and trappings appear to have been 
emblazoned with anagrams, scarcely less perplexing than hieroglyphics. 
Henry displayed a series of ciphers signifying, <' God, my friend, my 
realm." The French King wore the symbol of a book, on which were 
incribed the characters A, M, E ; which being combined with the Latin 
word liber, for book, were made to signify, '^ LIBERA ME," — deliver me. 

f Polydore Virgil. 

% See IMontfaiicon's Monumens de la Monarchie Fran^oise. 



THE BALLADS. 117 

taken a private repast at home, they merely went to the banquet 
as to a showy spectacle. Music and dancing relieved their atten- 
tion, and the vociferations of the heralds for largess, were echoed 
by the spontaneous plaudits of the people. To Claude and Ca- 
therine, who aspired not to the character of politicians, perhaps 
not all these acclamations imparted such heartfelt pleasure, as 
two simple ballads,* composed in honour of the projected al- 

* Par fille et fils d'illristre geniture, 
Deux nonpareils chefs, d'ordre de nature, 
On voit reiguer au monde bons amis, 
Ceque I'ung vent par I'autre est admis, 
Soit en parler, ou en pleine escriture — 
Par fille et fils. 

Le createur de toute creature, 
Pour demontrer ceque de sa facture,' 
Divin vouloir, a sur terre transmis 
Par fille et fils. 

Amour en coeur, en a fait I'ouYerture — 
Bein-lieureux sont de voir telle adventure, 
Francois, Anglois, jadis grands ennemis. 
Car a, dangler, ne seront plus submis, 
Ains auront paix ferme en leur cloture. 
Par fille et fils. 

This and the following ballad are extracted from Montfaucon's Monu- 
mcns de la Monarchic Fran9oise. 

Le Parlement de volontiS divine, 

Oti presidoit Raison, qui tout domine, 

Prins au conseil deliberation, 

Put arret(i sans contradiction, 
Qu'entre deux Rois, paix prendroit origine, 

• Obsolete.— The French ortliogrnphy is preserved. 



118 FRANCIS VISITS HENRY. 

liance between their cliildren ; in listening to wliich, they could 
not but indulge the anticipation of maternal fondness. Amidst 
all this pomp, and revelry, and luxury, there existed between 
the French and English, a mutual caution and distrust, truly 
characteristic of a barbarous age. Each monarch was encircled 
with guards, and, according to stipulation, accompanied by an 
equal number of attendants. 

To the generous nature of Francis, such restraint was pecu- 
liarly revolting ; and he one morning infringed it, by galloping 
to the palace of G-uisnes before Henry was risen ; when, pro- 
Humility demanda sa saisine, 
Et supplia que Raison sa voisine, 
Mist* cet arret en execution 
Au Parlement. 

Distort, en Bi'yt et Guerre s'eu mutine, 
Finance dit, mit en mine, 
Larreein fait sa deploration, 
Sans recepvob-\ leua' opposition 
Dessus le champs le proces on termine, 
Au Parlement, 

Adventuriers feront maigre cuisine 
Poules et coqs n'auront phis en pluvine, 
De leur exces on a fait mention 
Au Parlement. 

Religueux qui viveut sans doctrine, 

Tremblent de peur comme au vent la courtine. 

Car il est dit, que reformation, 

Viendra de brief, et pour conclusion. 

Miche au convert pour leur vivre St. Assigne. 
Au Parlement. 

* Mit. I Recevoir. 



ANNE BOLEYN AT THE MASQUE. 119 

ceeding to his chamber^ he entered with a smile, exclaiming, 
^^ Lo ! I come to be your prisoner/^ Flattered by this trait of 
confidence, Henry took from his neck a su^oerb collar, which he 
besought him to wear for the sake of his brother. Francis 
readily accepted the pledge, but took occasion to bind on Henry's 
arm a bracelet still more precious. At length, when Henry 
prepared to leave his bed, Francis sportively insisted on being 
his valet that morning, and actually officiated as such with 
the adroitness of a page. 

It is natural to inquire what part Anne Boleyn took in this 
superb spectacle. History mentions not her name; but it cannot 
be doubted, that she was included in the number of Claude's 
female attendants : many of her nearest relatives were present; 
in particular, her father's younger brother and his wife. Sir Ed- 
ward and Lady Boleyn ;* her maternal uncle, the Lord Edmund 
Howard ; her father ; and, admitted to the rank of a baroness, 
her respected mother.f At this period, however, Anne was too 
young to have attracted much notice, although she probably 
danced before Henry, in the masque performed in compliment 
to his visit to Queen Claude, and dancing was an accomplish- 
ment in which she is allowed to have excelled the greater part 
of her contemporaries. It may also be remarked of Henry, that, 
during his continental excursion, he appears, by his decorous 
conduct, to have justified the eulogium which Erasmus had lately 
bestowed on his conjugal and domestic virtues. '^ What house 

^ Sir Edward Boleyn married the heiress of Sir John Tempest. See 
the pedigree of Boleyn, in the Appendix. 

I In the list preserved in the Lambeth library, published in Du 
Carrol's Anglo-Norman Antiquities, she is called, the Lady Bologn. 
See also the list published in Fiddc's Life of Wolsey. 



120 END OF THE MEETING AT GUISNES. 

is there^ of any of your subjects; that can give an example of 
state in wedlock^ so chaste and harmonious ? Where can you 
find a wife more suitable to the best of husbands ?"* At this 
period similar impressions appear to have been produced on the 
mind of the Emperor Charles, who repeatedly felicitated his 
aunt on being united to the most magnificent and generous prince 
in Europe. 

On the departure of Henry's court, the marvellous palace 
vanished, like the more elegant fabric of a modern Aufocrat,-\- 
leaving no vestige of its former grandeur but in the recollections 
of the spectators, to whom the meeting of Guisnes formed an 
eventful epoch of existence. " I account him a fortunate man,^' 
says Bishop G-odwin, ^^who had seen two such kings and one 
emperor in so short a time.^^J 

* See Grove's Life of Wolsey. 

I The ice-palace of the Empress of Russia. 

J The subsequent visit, which Henry and his suite made to Grave- 
lines, excited disgust in the French court. Charles returned with Henry 
to Calais, where something like a repetition of the spectacle of Guisnes 
was attempted without the same success. " An amphitheatre was con- 
structed, in the centre of which was a pillar, formed of eight masts tied 
together : this pillar supported the weight not only of the roof of the 
whole fabric (whither, as into a lower heaven, the moon and stars had 
descended), hut organs also, and places for the receipt of all sorts of 
music in abundance. These places were adorned with tapestry, statues, 
and curious pictures. All was prepared for the entertainment of the 
royal guests, and the banquet ready to be served in, when the same 
mischance that befell the French canopy, made our English heaven and 
earth meet together." "God," says Godwin, ''as displeased with the 
mad prodigality of these two kings, sent a tempest, the violence where- 
of scattered this counterfeit heaven ; blew out a thousand wax tapers, 



CHAPTER IV. 

RETURN OF ANNE BOLEYN TO ENGLAND. — ESTABLISHMENT 
AT COURT. — ATTACHMENT TO PERCY. — SEPARATION OP 
THE LOVERS. 

Wolsey — Duke of Buckingham — His Trial — War -with France — Anne's 
Return to England — Anne in the Queen's service — Character of 
Catherine — Henry's Gallantry — He meets Anne — A Masked Ball — 
Henry's visit to Wolsey — Anne's Beauty — Her Manners — Accomplish- 
ments — Moral Qualities — Luxury of the Court — Maids of Honour — 
Earl of Northumberland— Old Castles— Servants' Amusements— Percy 
•wooes Anne — The Lovers separated — Percy and Wolsey — Northum- 
berland's Lecture — Anne's Resentment. 

It is well known that Wolsey, in common with many con- 
temporary statesmen, was addicted to the study of astrology, and 
sometimes amused his sovereign with flattering predictions, 
founded on the calculation of his nativity. Had the cardinal 
really possessed the faculty of prescience, he might have dis- 
covered that the fortunes of Anne Boleyn's house were mysteri- 
ously connected with his evil destiny, and that her ascending 
star was to be portentous of his ruin. Without referring to the 
old prophecy transmitted by Cavendish, it is worthy of remark, 
that, by one of those casualties, which sometimes occur to baffle 
human penetration, Wolsey was the primary author of Anne 
Boleyn's greatness, — the creator, not the arbiter, of her splendid 

defaced the glorious thrones prepared for these princes ; frustrated the 
expectation of the people, and forced the king to the necessity of an- 
other place." — Godwin's History of Henry the Eighth. 

11 (121) 



122 , DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM. 

destiny. With him had originated that marriage between Louis 
and the Princess Marj; to which she owed her first elevation. 
By his influence was to be renewed the hostility with France, and 
by his fiat she was recalled to her native country. 

In the career of statesmen, one passion so frequently assumes 
the semblance of another, that policy may easily be mistaken for 
malice, and ambition perform the ministry of vengeance. In 
deserting the cause of Francis, Wolsey could have been actuated 
by no personal feelings of enmity or prejudice; his affections 
were absorbed in one pursuit ; and even his prejudices submitted 
to the great object of all his efforts, intrigues, and combinations 
— the attainment of the papacy. A ludicrous parody was offered 
to the presumption of the minister, in the vanity of his sovereign, 
who, with the aid (as is supposed) of More and Wolsey, had 
attacked Luther, in a catholic tract, for which he was rewarded 
by Pope Leo, with a bull, and a compliment, such as might have 
shocked the modesty of any but a royal author. But so elated 
was Henry with success, that he even tolerated the raillery of his 
jester Patch, in the well known quibble of — ^^Pr'ythee, Henry, 
leave the faith to defend itself, and let you and I defend our 
own kingdom."* 

With this farce was contrasted the tragedy of Edward Stafford, 
Duke of Buckingham. This nobleman, who was not only the 
first peer, but hereditary constable of England, maintained his 
priority by a suitable display of magnificence and liberality. In 

* It may be observed, tkat Henry, in Ws Defence of the Seven Sacra- 
ments, lays particular stress on that of marriage, as the institution of 
Para'dise, quoting a passage, ''what therefore God hath joined together, 
let not man put asunder." The King's book was presented to the Pope, 
in full consistory, by Dr. John Clerk, Dean of Windsor. 



HIS TRIAL. 1-23 

addition to these brilliant advantages, it was his misfortune to 
possess another, and unhappily an invidious claim to distinction 
in his remote affinity to the Plantagencts. In tracing his pre- 
tensions to royal blood, he had to revert to the son of Edward 
the Third, from whose daughter he was, in the female line, de- 
scended. But ambition speculates freely within the limits of 
possibility ; superstition even goes beyond them : and over the 
Duke's mind these two powerful springs of human action had 
obtained an alarming ascendant. Cajoled by the artifices of a 
monk, who predicted that the King should die childless, he ven- 
tured, in some unguarded moments, to expatiate on his latent 
pretensions to the succession ; and, as spies and delators formed 
a part of every nobleman's household, his words were reported 
to Henry, and, by the agency of suborned domestics, articles of 
treason were actually exhibited against him. When brought to 
trial, it might be some aggravation of his sufi"erings, that he 
recognised among his judges, the Duke of Suffolk, the Earls of 
Northumberland and Oxford, with whom he had been so lately 
associated on the plain of Guisnes ; and that in the Duke of 
Norfolk, who presided at this tribunal, he beheld the friend of 
his youth, who, by the intermarriage of their children, was 
become his acknowledged brother. 

On the death of his royal bride, the Lady Anne Plantagenet, 
the Lord Thomas Howard had fixed his affections on the second 
daughter of Buckingham, who, though already contracted, and 
attached to the young Earl of Westmoreland, was compelled, by 
her father's authority, to espouse a man, ill-assorted in age, and 
from whose person and manners she recoiled with aversion. 
Little did the Duke suspect, that the child, whose happiness was 
thus sacrificed to schemes of greatness, would have to struggle. 



124 BUCKINGHAM'S TRIAL. 

in the wane of life^ with desertion and indigence, with sickness 
and sorrow, with all the wrongs and sufferings that cruelty and 
injustice can inflict on helpless woman.* 

The arraignment of Buckingham would alone fix an indelible 
stain on the judicial administration of this reign, since, in 
direct violation of the statutes of Edward the Third (whom 
Henry professed to make the model of his ambitious imitation), 
the noble culprit was tried and convicted, on the evidence of a 
perfidious monk, employed to seduce his loyalty, and the venal 
testimony of a domestic, who for misconduct had been discharged 
from his service, and from revenge conspired against his former 
benefactor. No overt act was proved, to substantiate the charge 
of treason ; but any ambitious dream was sufficient to alarm 
Henry's jealousy; nor did the peers venture to incur the charge 
of disloyalty by thwarting the wishes of a despotic sovereign. 
The Duke of Norfolk, who presided at the tribunal, shed tears, 
in pronouncing the fatal sentence. ^^My lord of Norfolk,'^ 
replied the prisoner, ^^ you have said, that, as a traitor, I should 
be bound ', but traitor I am none ; I was never any. But, my 
Lords, I nothing malign for that you have done to me; but the 
eternal God forgive you my death, as I do. I shall never sue 
to the King for life ; howbeit he is a gracious prince, and more 
grace may come from him than I deserve. I desire you, my 
Lords, to pray for me." — On being conducted to his barge, he 
declined sitting on the cushions prepared for him, exclaiming, 

* This lady was supplanted in her husband's affections by a female 
attendant, for whose sake she was compelled to leave her house, and 
to live in comparative proverty, whilst her rival presided at the Duke's 
table, and publicly appeared with his children at court. 



ANNE RETURNS TO ENGLAND. 125 

'^ When I went to Westminster, I was Buko of Buckingham ; 
now am I Edward Bohunc, the worst caitiff of the world." 

The Duke of Norfolk survived his unfortunate friend but two 
years. In that interval he witnessed the progressive advance- 
ment of his son-in-law Sir Thomas Boleyn, who was promoted 
to be Comptroller of the King's Household; but he lived not to 
draw any presage of his grandchild's greatness ; and if he ever 
saw her after the memorable moment of Queen Mary's marriage, 
it was probably in the train of Queen Claude, at the interview 
at Guisnes. Hostility to France having been resolved in the 
English cabinet, a plausible pretext for war could not long be 
wanting ; and after the ordinary process of outrage on the liberty 
and property of aliens residing, on the faith of former treaties, 
in either kingdom, the Duke of Suffolk invaded France, and va- 
rious depredations were reciprocally committed by the belligerent 
parties. A formal requisition was also made to Francis for th« 
restoration of Anne Boleyn, who in consequence returned to 
England ; under whose protection is not specified by any histo- 
rian. It is however acknowledged, that the King and Queen of 
France submitted to her departure with reluctance '* to the latter, 
in particular, she was so much endeared, that Anne appears not 
to have formally quitted her service, but merely to have relin- 

* Mezerai pretends that Francis was deeply chagrined by the pri- 
vation of her society, having made her the depositary of his secrets ; 
but this assertion is too ridiculous to require refutation; in 1522, 
Anne could not have been more than sixteen. On the other hand, 
Camden, and after him Burnet and Rapin, affirm that, on the death of 
Claude, she entered the service of the Duchess of Alan9on ; but it is 
certain, if she was an attendant on tliat princess, it must have been 
prior to Claude's death, which happened in 1524. 
11* 



126 ANNE IN THE QUEEN'S SERVICE. 

quislied her place till a more favourable moment should permit 
her to resume it. Sir Thomas Boleyn probably conjectured that 
the war with France would be of no long duration ; and with 
his usual discretion reserved for his daughter an asylum in one 
court, without hazarding displeasure in another. 

Scarcely had Wolsey coalesced with the Emperor Charles, 
than he saw sufl&cient cause to distrust the sincerity of his new 
patron : on the death of Leo, regardless of former promises, he 
procured the nomination of his tutor, Adrian, to the papal chair. 
Adrian, indeed, was old and infirm, and Wolsey might reasonably 
indulge the hope of becoming his successor. 

Sir Thomas Boleyn was less sa.nguine in his expectations ; and 
as he foresaw the alienation of Wolsey from Charles, he could 
with confidence predict his coalition with his rival potentate : 
but however he might have speculated on this probability, the 
death of Claude precluding the re-establishment of Anne in 
France, left him no alternative but to attach her to the service 
of Catherine. In effecting this object, he probably had recourse 
to the aid of Wolsey, whose influence was rather increased than 
diminished, and who, whilst he assumed in the state the supre- 
macy conferred by talent, controlled the Queen through the 
medium of her husband's authority, and governed the King by 
flattering his passions, and administering to his pleasures. 

Although Henry continued to live with Catherine in seeming 
concord, it was well known to his confidential intimates, that he 
had become indifierent to her person and weary of her society. 
At the period of their marriage, they had sympathized in many 
of their tastes and pursuits, nor was the Queen less acceptable 
to her youthful consort for those retired and sedentary habits, 
derived from the Spanish court, which forbade her to dance, to 
hunt, or sing, like the less fastidious princesses of England. In 



I 



CHARACTER OF CATHERINE. 127 

her happier days, she was endeared to him by a certaiD feminine 
reserve, tempered with mildness, that pervaded her general de- 
portment. Eagerly as Henry sought popular applause for him- 
self, he was well pleased that the partner of his throne should 
remain the unambitious spectator of his exhibitions and his 
triumphs; whilst, on his part, he witnessed with complacency 
her progress in tent-stitclv^ and tapestrij, and approved the 
reformation which, both by precept and example, she sought to 
introduce in female manners. Unhappily for Catherine, as her 
beauty declined, her gravity increased ; and though celebrated 
for her learning, she appears not to have possessed those com- 
panionable talents which enliven domestic retirement. It is the 
misfortune of the female sex, that superior moral qualities, 
though necessary to insure esteem, are not sufficient to preserve 
affection; and although Catherine's exemplary virtues were such 
as disarmed her husband's censure, he often repined at her 
"tediousness and peevishness,'^'}" when^ in reality, he merely 
missed in her the faculty of participating in his favourite enjoy- 
ments. If, at stated seasons, she still presided at the banquet, 
her heart was no longer in unison with the scene ; submission 
was a poor substitute for sympathy; obedience atoned not 
for the absence of animation; and Henry gladly escaped 
from Catherine's mild, but melancholy aspect, to alluring 
smiles, and exhilarating companions. Hitherto, with the ex- 
ception of Lady Tallbois, he had been devoted to no acknow- 
ledged mistress ; even for her his attachment had been kept alive 
by the birth of a son, whom, in his solicitude for a male heir, 
he once thought of including in the succession to the crown. 

* Catherine lias been celebrated in Latin and English verse, for her 
px'oficiency in this accomplishment. 
f Herbert, Fiddes. 



128 HENRY MEETS ANNE. 

Altliougli liis propensity to gallantry was not unsuspected^ a 
sense of decency and propriety had hitherto induced him to 
conceal his irregular conduct from the world ; and if his wife 
had sometimes the pain of hearing of his aberrations from mo- 
rality^ she was spared the anguish of watching his seductions; 
and detecting his infidelities. 

It was remarked; that with a rigid observance of punctilio; 
Henry continued to dine and sup in the Queen's chamber; but 
no sooner was the meal despatched; thaU; attended by Sir Edward 
NevillC; Sir Francis BriaU; and two or three familiar associates; 
he frequently entered his bargC; masked and disguised ; and like 
the Caliph Haroun al Raschid; went in pursuit of pleasant ad- 
ventures. 

On such occasions; his most agreeable haunt was Yorke HousC;* 
where Wolsey; according to preconcerted arrangement; had pre- 
pared a banquet for his reception. Of these rich voluptuous 
entertainments; Cavendish has transmitted a description; which, 
in his play of Henry the Eighth; is immortalized by Shakspeare. 
To the same high authority; we may refer the popular tradition; 
that Henry the Eighth first met Anne Boleyn at a masked ball; 
in the cardinal's palace. f 

^^ On one of these occasions;" as Cavendish relates; " the King 

* On the site of Whitehall. 

f It should however be observed, that the minute description of 
Cavendish nearly agrees with the brief sketch which Plolinshed has 
introduced, of the entertainment given 1518, by Cardinal Wolsey to the 
French ambassadors ; at which Henry danced with his sister, the Queen, 
Duchess of Suffolk, and where his mistress, Elizabeth Blount, was pre- 
sent: the principal difference between them is, that Cavendish makes 
Henry play at the game of mumchaunce. 



A MASKED BALL. 129 

and his companions came, disguised as shepherds^ in garments 
made of fine cloth of gold, and fine crimson satin (paned), and 
cappes of the same, with visors of good proportion of visnamy, 
their hairs and beards of fine silver wire, or black silk : before 
this gallant company, appeared sixteen torch-bearers, and three 
drummers ; when they reached the Watergate, a loud salute an- 
nounced the arrival of honorable guests, and the tables were set 
in the chamber of presence, all covered, and my Lord Cardinal 
sitting under the cloth of estate there, having all his service alone ; 
and there was there set, a lady and a nobleman, and a gentleman 
and a gentlewoman, throughout all the tables in the chamber, on 
the one side, which were made adjoining, as it were but one table, 
all which order and devise was done by the- Lord Sands, then. 
Lord Chamberlain, and Sir Henry Guildford, Comptroller of the 
King's House : then, immediately after this great shot of the 
guns, the Cardinal desired the Lord Chamberlain, and the Comp- 
troller, to look what it should mean, as though he knew nothing 
of the matter ; they looking out of the windows into the Thames, 
returned again, and shewed him, that it seemed they were 
noblemen, and strangers arrived at his bridge, coming as am- 
bassadors, from some foreign prince : with that, quoth the 
Cardinal, I desire you, because you can speak French, to take 
the pains to go into the hall, there to receive them according to 
their estates, and to conduct them into this chamber, where 
they shall see us, and all these noble personages, being merry at 
our banquet, desiring them to sit down with us, and to take 
part of our feast. Then went they down into the hall, whereas 
they received them with twenty new torches, and conveyed them 
up into the chamber, with such a number of flutes and drums 
as I have seldom seen together at one place and time. At 



130 A MASKED BALL. 

tlieir arrival into the chamber, two-and-two together, they went 
directly before the Cardinal, where he sate, and saluted him 
very reverently ; to whom the Lord Chamberlain, for them, said, 
^ Sir, forasmuch as they be strangers, and cannot speak English, 
they have desired me to declare unto you, that they having un- 
derstanding of this your triumphant banquet, where was assem- 
bled such a number of excellent fair dames, could do no less, and 
under the supportation of your Grace, but to repair hither, to view 
as well their incomparable beauty, as for to accompany them 
at mumchaunce, and then after to dance with them, and to have 
of their acquaintance. And, Sir, furthermore, they require 
of your grace licence to accomplish the same cause of their 
coming/ To whom the Cardinal said, he was very well con- 
tent they should so do. Then went the maskers, and first 
saluted all the dames, and then returned to the most worthi- 
est, and then opened their great cup of gold, filled with 
crowns, and other pieces of gold, to whom they set certain of 
the pieces of gold to cast at, thus perusing all the ladies and 
gentlewomen : to some they lost, and of some they won, and 
perusing after this manner all the ladies, they returned to the 
Cardinal with great reverence, pouring down all the gold left in 
their cup, which was above two hundred crowns. ' Oh !' quoth 
the Cardinal, and so cast the dice and won them, whereof was 
made great noise and joy. Then, quoth the Cardinal to my 
Lord Chamberlain, ' I pray you that you will shew them, that 
meseemeth there should be a nobleman amongst them who is 
more meet to occupy this seat and place than am I, to whom I 
would most gladly surrender the same, if I knew him.'' Then 
spoke my Lord Chamberlain to them in French, declaring my 
Lord Cardinal's words, and they, redounding him again in the 



A MASKED BALL. 131 

car, the Lord Chamberlain said to my Lord Cardinal, ^ Sir, they 
confess that among them there is such a noble personage, whom, 
if your Grace will point out from the rest, he is content to dis- 
close himself, and to take and accept your place most worthily.' 
With that, the Cardinal taking a good advisement among them, 
at the last, quoth he, ^Meseemeth the gentleman with the black 
beard should be even he;' and, with that, he rose out of his 
chair, and offered the same to the gentleman in the black beard, 
with his cap in his hand. The person to whom he offered then 
his chair was Sir Edward Neville, a comely knight, of a goodly 
personage, that much more resembled the King's person in that 
mask than any other : the King hearing, and perceiving the 
Cardinal was deceived, could not forbear laughing, but pulled 
down his vizor, and Master Neville's also, and dashed out such 
a pleasant countenance and cheer, that all the noblest estates 
there assembled, perceiving the King to be there amongst them, 
rejoiced very much. The Cardinal eftsoons desired his high- 
ness to take the place of estate, whom the King answered, that 
he would go first and shift his apparel, and so departed, and 
went straight into my Lord Cardinal's bed-chamber, where was 
a great fire prepared for him ; and new apparelled him with rich 
and princely garments. And in the time of the King's absence, 
the dishes of the banquet were cleane taken up, and the table 
spread again, with new and clean perfumed cloaths, every man 
sitting still until the King's majesty, with all his maskers, came 
in among them again, every man new apparelled. Then the 
King took his seat under the cloth of estate, commanding every 
person to sit still as they did before. In came a new banquette 
before the King's majesty, and to all the rest throughout the 
tables, wherein, I suppose, were served two hundred dishes of 



132 ANNE'S BEAUTY. 

wonderous costly devices and subtilties. Thus passed they forth 
the night in banquetting, dancing, and other triumphant devices, 
to the great comfort of the King, and pleasant regard of the 
nobility there assembled/^* 

"Whether it were at York House, or at G-reenwich, that Henry 
and Anne Boleyn first met, it appears to have been under Wol- 
sey's suspices that she arrested his attention. In the Queen's 
presence-chamber she might have been occasionally eclipsed by 
fairer faces, to which superficial observers would award the prize 
of beauty. That Anne was a brunette is well known, by de- 
scription and representation from the artist and the poet ;"]* and it 

■^ Cavendisli's Life of Wolsey. 

■j- "There was at this time presented to the eye of the court the rare 
and admyrable bewtie of the fresh and yonge Lady Anne Bolein, to be 
attendichte upon the Queene. In this noble imp the graces of nature, 
graced by gracious ediicacion, seemed even at the first to have promised 
blis unto hereafter times ; she was taken at that time to have a bewtie 
not so whitly cleere and fresh, above al we may esteeme, which appeared 
much more excellent by her favour passinge sweete and chearful, and 
thes both also increased by her noble presence of shape and /aseow, re- 
presenting both mildness and majesty, more than can be exprest. Ther 
was found indeede upon the side of her naile upon one of her fingers 
some little showe of a naile, which yet was so small, by the report of 
tliose that have seen her, as the workmaister seemed to leave it an oc- 
casion of greater grace to her hand, which, with the tip of one of her 
other fingers, might be and was usually by her hidden, without any 
least blemish to it. Likewise ther wer said to be upon certin parts of 
her boddy small moles, incident to the clearest complections ; and 
certainly both thes were none other than miglit more stain their writ- 
ings, with note of malice, than have catch at such light moles in so 
bright beams of bewtie, than in any part shaddow it, as may right wel 
appeare by many arguments, but chiefly by ih.Q choice and exquisite 



HER ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 133 

is notorious, that on one of her fingers was a supplemental 
nail j a defect which, if we may credit her encomiasts, she had 
the address to conceal, or the skill to improve into a perfection. 
The fascination of Anne appears not to have resided even in her 
features, though of these the loveliness is almost universally 
acknowledged ; but in her eloquent eyes, the symmetry of her 
form, the mingled airiness and dignity of her carriage ; above 
all, in those indefinable charms of grace and expression which 
lend interest to every glance, and intelligence to each movement. 
Such, at least, is the impression that Wiatt gives in the follow- 
ing lines, avowedly written to convey an idea of her charming 
countenance : — 

A face that should content me wond'rous -well 

Should not be fair, — but lovely to behold ; 
With gladsome cheer all grief for to expel, 

With sober looks ; so would I that it should 
Speak without words, such words as none can tell. 

Her tresse also should be of crisped gold, 
With wit, and then might chance I might be tied, 

And knit again the knot that should not slide.* 

Trained in the court of France, Anne had learned to improve 
her person by all those embellishments of dress, which, under 
the direction of good taste, render art so powerful an auxiliary 

judgments, of many brave spirits that weer esteemed to honor the 
honorable parts in her, even honored of envie itself." 

Wiatt^s Life of Queen Anne Bolen. 

* See Nott's Life of Wiatt. The "tresse of crisped gold" is a poetic 

license. The colour of Anne Boleyn's hair appears to have been a 

dark brown, as may be seen by a portrait taken of her by Holbein, 

still preserved in Warwick Castle. 

12 



134 HER MORAL QUALITIES. 

to nature. Discarding, as far as etiquette permitted, the stiff 
costumes of English dames, she ventured to introduce such novel- 
ties of fashion as best became her own form; and the admiration 
she excited soon induced other ladies to imitate her example. 
But it was not only at the toilette that her taste was confessedly- 
pre-eminent : unrivalled in every captivating talent, she danced 
like a nymph, and not only touched the lute and virginal with 
a masterly hand, but accompanied them with her voice in a strain 
of delicious melody. To these brilliant accomplishments shej 
added an exquisite winningness and propriety of manners, not 
less rare, and even more seducing than beauty ; insomuch, as 
Lord Herbert says,* that ^^ when she composed her hands to 
play and her voice to sing, it was joined with that sweetness of 
countenance that three harmonies concurred : likewise when she 
danced, her rare proportions carried themselves into all the graces 
that belong either to rest or motion ; briefly, it seems, the most 
attractive perfections were eminent in her.'' 

Of her moral qualities it might be less easy to form a judg- 
ment. She appears to have imbibed the pride of her mother's 
character, and to have inherited her father's ambition. The 
frankness of her nature had so far prevailed over an artificial 
education, and the lessons of prudence inculcated by statesmen 

* Lord Herbert appears to have derived his account of Anne Boleyn 
from Sir John Russell, the first Earl of Bedford, — on whose authority 
he informs us, that Jane Seymour was the more majestic, hut Anne 
Boleyn the more lovely ; that love threatened in the eyes of Jane, but 
laughed in those of Anne ; that the former, the richer she was dressed, 
the fairer she appeared, but that the other never looked so fair as 
when she was plainly dressed. The same connoisseur adds, "though 
Queen Catherine, in her younger days, was, for beauty and dignity, 
not often to be paralleled." 



LUXURY OF THE ENGLISH COURT. 135 

and diplomatists, that, in defiance of caution and expcriencej she 
spoke and acted from the impulse of feeling, with an intrepidity 
sometimes honoured as sincerity, more often stigmatized as im- 
prudence. To this indiscretion she added a spirit of volatile 
coquetry, which, though palliated by the manners of the age, 
often exposed her conduct to suspicion and misrepresentation. 

The interior of Queen Catherine's court could have offered 
little for her amusement. Much praise has been bestowed on 
that princess for those meritorious labours in tent-stitch and 
tapestry, with which she sought to supply the place of hunting, 
archery, and other unfeminine modes of pastime. It does not, 
however, appear, that these labours were beguiled with a book 
or song ; and Anne, who possessed, in the vivacity and facility 
of her conversation, another source of attraction, little appre- 
ciated by the indefatigable sempstresses that engrossed the 
Queen's favour, was naturally disposed to become impatient of 
seclusion in such uncongenial society. 

In the economy of the royal household existed many pecu- 
liarities, which, to those who possessed either cultivated taste or 
refined feeling, must have been offensively repulsive.* It might 
seem paradoxical to assert, that there is a partial excess of luxury 
incident to a rude state of society, of which the more general 
diffusion which characterizes an advanced state of civilization, 
affords the best corrective. In the gorgeous finery of King 
Henry's court, we often trace a resemblance to the barbaric 
splendour and magnificence exhibited by the despots of Asia and 

•^ Of the total absence of order and decorum from tliis scene of pro- 
fligate dissipation, some idea may be formed from the proclamation 
issued against " strong and mighty beggars, rascals, vagabonds, and 
masterless folk, who hang about the court." 



136 BARBARIC GRANDEUR. 

Africa ; and poorly as tlaat age was furnished with those more 
elegant conveniences and accommodations^ that essentially con- 
tribute to the comfort and refinement of modern life, it will be 
found, that, wherever wealth abounded, there prevailed a super- 
fluity of all that was rare and precious, — an excess of pomp and 
prodigality, to which modern Europe scarcely offers any parallel. 
Under the Tudors, the frank hospitality of the rude Saxon 
monarchs was still perpetuated on public festivals, at Christmas 
and Easter, on twelfth day and Michaelmas, and some other 
extraordinary occasions, when the King lived in hall, and freely 
treated all who asked for entertainment. In general, the palace, 
like the pageant so often admitted within its walls, presented a 
motley combination of bloated luxury and squalid wretchedness, 
fantastic elegance and sordid penury. The royal apartments 
were strewn with rushes ; the stairs and floors of the other rooms 
were often inlaid with filth ; and whilst fires* blazed in the great 
chambers, hung with arras, the inferior officers were shivering 
with cold, and some of their attendants literally beggars. 

Among other statutes published in the 17th year of this reign, 
at Eltham, was one, by which it was enacted, that none but 
decent persons should be admitted into court service ; that in 
future no rascalf should be employed in any domestic capacity ; 
and that the scullions of the kitchen should not be permitted to 
go naked. By one article, it was prohibited to any| of the 

* Coals were only allowed for the King, Queen, and Lady Mary's 
chambers. 

f A rascal implied an illiterate vagrant ; one who could not even re- 
peat his Creed. 

t It was expressly stipulated, that the officers of the squillery shall 
see silver and pewter vessels kept safe (pewter vessels heing then 



THE KING'S HOUSEHOLD. 137 

King's household to follow the King when he should go on his 
pastime^ unless invited. By another article, obviously dictated 
by Henry's personal feelings, it is enacted, that in future none 
be admitted but persons of good demeanour, fashion, gesture, 
countenance, and stature, so as the King's house may be fur- 
nished with such as are tried, elect, and picked for the King's 
honour. To the privilege of maintenance, implied in the houche 
of court, a comparatively small number of the palace inmates 
were admitted ; but for the personal attendants both of the King 
and Queen, there was in general kept a plentiful table, and to 
the six maids of honour were allotted a chet loaf and a manchet, 
a chine of beef, and a gallon of ale for breakfast.* 

costly); and it is forbidden to the King's attendants to steal locks or 
keys from cupboards, or other articles of furniture out of noblemen's 
or gentlemen's houses where he goes to visit. The King's barber is 
enjoined to be cleanly, and by no means to frequent the company of 
misguided women, and idle persons. The Knight Marshal is directed 
to take good care that all such unthrifty and common women as follow 
the court be banished. 

* " King Henry," says Loyd, "understood a man and a dish. Among 
the dainties which he relished, were giggots of mutton or venison, 
stopped with cloves ; chickens in crituary ; larkes, sparrow, or lamb 
stued with chines of mutton ; venison pasty; jelly hippocras ; cream 
of almonds. 

" Stabling was allowed to such of the Queen's gentlewomen as were 
peers' daughters. Seven messes of ladies dined at the same table in 
the great chamber ; a chet loaf and manchet, ale and wine, beef and 
mutton, were supplied in abundance, with the addition of capons or 
hens, pigeons and conies. On fast-days, salt salmon, salted eels, whi- 
tings, gurnet, plaice, and flounders : fruit was reserved for Lent : but- 
ter was always allowed in profusion. 

"The Queen's table was furnished with more elegance, and with the 
12 * 



138 MEALS. 

The utmost regularity was observed in the order and rotation 
of meals. The gentlemen and ladies dined in separate apart- 
mentS; at stated hours, throughout the year, never departing 
from this rule, but on high and especial occasions. It was the 
prerogative of the King alone to dine when he thought proper ; 
and to Henry, who was notoriously an epicure, this prerogative 
was perhaps of some importance. 

The Queen's maids, although gentlewomen by birth and edu- 
cation, appear not to have possessed any peculiar privileges : 
they were indeed permitted to retain in attendance on their per- 
sons a waiting-woman and a spaniel ; to receive presents and 
amatory verses from their servants ; and exhibit emblems and de- 
vices among their rivals and admirers. To the monotony of 
their life some little interruption was offered, when they migrated 
at Christmas and Easter, from Richmond to Eltham, or from 
Greenwich to Bridewell,* the usual residence of the royal family 

additional delicacies of fricandes or custard, frytliour or tarte; be- 
sides every delicacy of the season. 

" The brewer is enjoined not to put hops or brimstone into the ale. 

"A swan was five shillings, a capon eighteen-pence, pigeons eight- 
pence per dozen ; a fat heron was eight-pence, a partridge four-pence, 
pullets three-pence, each ; conies two shillings per dozen ; the stork, 
the bustard, and the crane were then admitted to the table. 

*'A munificent provision of twenty-four loaves per day was made for 
the king's greyhounds : other dogs were banished the court, with the 
exception of spaniels kept for the ladies. 

"A gift was allowed to whoever married, or made the king a present." 

* Whenever the King and court removed, it was usual to transport 
with them the hangings, bedding, and portable furniture ; all included 
under the general appellation of hoTisehold stufi". The enormous sum 
of three hundred pounds was allowed in the household book to defray 



MAIDS OF HONOUR. 139 

in London : and tbej participated in the bustle and confusion 
incident to each dislodgement of the royal household. During 
the summer, they were often treated with an excursion to 
Windsor, the traditionary seat of Oberon and Titania ; or to the 
still more romantic shades of Havering-Bower ;* and sometimes, 
though rarely, they were permitted to accompany the King and 
Queen in a royal progress to some baronial castle, at a consider- 
able distance from the metropolis. 

In expeditions such as these, performed on horseback, through 
roads little frequented, and districts thinly populated, the fair 
equestrians had to experience fatigue and inconvenience, for 
which they were amply repaid by the gallantry of their servants 
or protectors. In the march of a royal progress, as in that of a 
victorious army, contributions were levied on the neighbouring 
gentry, who were eager to offer accommodation and amusements 
to such distinguished guests. 

** Whether Anne Boleyn repined at the restraints annexed to 
her situation, or whether the heart, that seemed light as air, 
was really susceptible of tender emotions, it is certain, that she 
had not long been an inmate of the English court, before she 
listened to an overture of marriage. Among other prerogatives 
of prelates and cardinals, it was, assuredly, not the least flatter- 
ing, that the sons of noblemen were often placed in their house- 
hold for education and improvement, and ushered into life under 
their care and superintendence. The palace of Wolsey was, with 
reason, considered as the best introduction to the court, and the 

the expenses incidental to each migration. See the Ordonnances of the 
Royal Household ; also several papers in the Archaeologia. 

* Havering-Bower, in Essex ; a favourite spot with Queen Cathe- 
rine. 



140 THE EARL OF NORTPIUMBERLAND. 

fairest avenue to preferment. It waS; therefore, not surprising, 
that even the Earl of Northumberland, the most genuine repre- 
sentative of the old English nobility, should solicit and obtain 
for his eldest son this envied distinction. Of the Hotspurs, the 
present earl was confessedly a degenerate descendant, since he 
had surrendered the trust, long hereditary in his family, of 
Warden of the Marches ; and, during a temporary dispute with 
the King, solicited the intercession of Wolsey to avert his dis- 
pleasure. But if the earl emulated not his forefathers in hero- 
ism, he surpassed them in urbanity and cultivation; and in his 
domestic establishments, both at Wresil Castle and Leckingfield 
Manor, he displayed indications of an improved and progressive 
taste, whilst he retained whatever was admirable in feudal gran- 
deur, or worthy of royal munificence. To the mind of a re- 
flective spectator, there is something in the Grothic turrets and 
moated walls of a baronial castle, that produces involuntary im- 
pressions of melancholy and respect, and conjures to fancy an 
image of antiquity, at once awful and attractive, touching and 
sublime. But this sentiment is the offspring of modern refine- 
ment; an association that clings to the ^^ ivy -man tied towers;'' 
an emotion inspired by the silence that pervades the halls and 
chambers, and which imparts a certain sepulchral solemnity to 
those relics and ruins of departed greatness. In reality, the 
castellated mansion of our forefathers was little calculated to 
awaken serious thoughts or refined feelings; and, except in 
the absence of the family, presented a constant scene of bolster ■ 
ous mirth, litigious broils, and bustling activity. The ap- 
proach to a nobleman's seat was indicated by the baying of 
hounds, the jingle of hawks' bells, the lowing of herds, with 
other symbols of rural occupation. The aspect of the draw- 



ANCIENT CASTLES. 141 

bridge and jDortcullis was somewhat repulsive; but to these 

features of a ruder ao-e were contrasted others more cono;e- 

nialj and the spacious park, the blooming orchards, the fra- 

I grance of the plants, the flight of birds, all announced the 

"^ vicinity of peace and affluence, security and luxury. A little 

I town was included within the walls, in which the inhabitants 

presented almost every shade of English society. The crowded 

^ hall reflected the image of old Gothic hospitality : at the long 

oak-table the guest continued to be seated, and served above and 

below the salt-cellar ; but the lord and lady no longer presided 

beneath the Dais j"^ and in the three or four chambers fitted up 

for their reception was to be detected something of transalpine 

elegance, intermingled with oriental luxury.-j" The loom of 

Antwerp furnished the arras, which contributed so essentially 

to the comfort and embellishment of the apartments ; and pithy 

sentences and metrical stanzas were sometimes unrolled in orna- 

* In the old baronial hall, it is well known, a large salt-cellar stood 

. in the middle of the table, above or below which the guests were 

J. seated, according to their station. In the elder times, the lord and 

lady took their place, on a seat raised above the rest, under a canopy, 

hence called a Dais. 

■j- At the Earl of Northumberland's castle of Wresil, was a study 
called Paradise ; a closet in the middle, of eight squares, latticed: at the 
top of every square was a desk lodged to set books on books, on coflfers 
within them ; and these seemed as if joined to the top of the closet ; 
and yet, by pulling, one or all would come down, and serve for desks 
to lay books on. In the two principal chambers were small beautiful 
staircases, with octagon screens, covered with bold sculptures, from 
the designs of Palladio. — -See the Household Book of Henry Algernon 
Percy, Earl of Northumberland. 



142 WRESIL CASTLE. 

mented tapestry.* Amongst tlie members of this motley family " 
■were found mechanics^ artisans^ boorS; vagrantS; scholars and 
poetS; tumblerS; jugglers, and jesters. Various were the esta- 
blishments formed in this compendious household. The choris- 
ters of the chapel were regularly instructed in music. The fal- 
coner had his auxiliaries : and a field was consecrated to the 
triumphs of archery. The banqueting-house and tennis-court 
offered resources for an idle hour. A master of the revels was 
ready at Christmas to exhibit playsf and mummeries suited to 

* In Wresil Castle, and other mansions, some of the apartments were 
adorned in the oriental manner, with metrical inscriptions, called Pro- 
verbes. In one of the chambers at Wresil Castle, is a poem of twenty- 
four stanzas, each containing seven lines, of which the following is a 
specimen : — 

When it is tyme of cost, and great expence. 

Beware of waste, and sparely measure ; 
Who that outrageously maketh his dispence, 
Looseth his goods, not long for to endure. 

There were gardens within and orchards without the moat. In the 
orchards were raised artificial mounts, the ascent to the top of which 
was by winding walks, like steps, composed of cockle-shells, so con- 
trived as to reach the summit without labour. 

Of this immense mansion, a very small part was furnished : four or 
five rooms were fitted up for the great folks ; the rest were merely 
offices and cabins, in which beds of the coarsest kind were provided, 
as occasion required. There was the gallery, the chapel, my lord's 
chamber, my lady's closet, the nursery, the great chamber, the carved 
chamber, paradise ; and the lower house, the hall, the spicery, &c. 

j- These were something in the style of the old mysteries or mora- 
lities. 

It was stipulated that the almoner should be a maker of interludes. 
Amongst the immates of the household were officers of arms, heralds, 



AMUSEMENTS. 143 

tliG occasion. In fine weather, the park invited to exercise, 
whilst the horrors of a dull day were beguiled by chess and dice, 
and the privileged jester.* In many of its features, the baronial 
mansion was obviously the counterpart of the royal palace. The 
lady had her gentlewomen attendants ; the lord his council : and 
so little was it considered a disparagement to men of gentle 
blood, to enter such service, that the pages were commonly chosen 
from families of rank, and often attained the honours of knight- 
hood. No contrast could be more striking than what the same 
mansion presented during the residence or absence of its nume- 
rous family, when stripped of all moveable furniture, without 
plate or porcelain, dismantled of its arras, by men and animals 
alike deserted, it almost realized the images of desolation and 
proscription so beautifully pourtraycd in the Cid, — '^ when no 

yeomen of the cliamlDers, yeomen of the household, fourteen gentlemen 
and choristers of the chapel, tAvo bass singers, two tenor ; domestic 
minstrels, with the tabret, the lute, the rebeck : there were also fal- 
coners, archers, carpenters, painters, carvers, &c. "When the family 
removed to Leckingfield Manor, the rooms were stripped of hangiuns 
and furniture, and thirteen carts filled with household stuff. — See the 
Accompt Book of the Household of Henry Algernon, Earl of Northum- 
berland. 

* There was also a master of the grammar-school. To the chapel 
were annexed a dean, a sub-dean, an almoner, two priests, my lord's 
secretary, my lord's riding chaplain, a priest for my lord, a priest for 
the eldest son, another for my lord's household, another to read the 
Gospel daily in the chapel ; there was another to sing mass daily ; and 
there were six children choristers. 

The ordinary breakfast of my lord and my lady was of two man- 
chets, a quart of beer, a quart of wine, two pieces of salt fish— her- 
rings or sprats. At the other meals, capons, mutton, eels, pigs, and 
pigeons predominated. 



144 PERCY WOOES ANNE BOLEYN. 

hawks were seen on the perches ; no cloaks lying on the benches ; 
no voices heard in the hall, which had so lately echoed the sound 
of mirth and revelry : and now, like a city desolated by plague, 
seemed hut one vast sepulchre, prepared to receive the dead." 
Such was Wresil Castle ; such the seat of the Percies ; and there, 
hut for the tyranny of Henry's passion, had Anne Boleyn lived 
in elegant and unambitious retirement. The young Lord Percy 
attended the cardinal in his daily visits to the King ; and whilst 
the favourite was admitted to a private conference with his 
master, his noble page amused himself in one of the Queen's 
apartments, where he was sure to meet with the Maid of Honour. 

In the progress of their acquaintance a mutual attachment 
was created, and the young nobleman frankly offered his hand, 
which was as frankly accepted. From his father the lover anti- 
cipated no opposition; his mistress felt equally assured of paren- 
tal approbation ; and to their mutual felicity nothing was wan- 
ting but caution and concealment. Unfortunately, Lord Percy 
had not acquired experience, and Anne was never destined to 
learn discretion. Their unguarded looks were noticed, their 
reciprocal sentiments suspected ; and Henry, who had hitherto 
regarded Anne merely as an object of amusement, suddenly dis- 
covered that he had conceived for her a violent passion. 

There is something truly characteristic of an arbitrary spirit, 
in the abrupt explosion of his feelings, and in his prompt and 
decided resolution, to withhold Anne Boleyn from the possession 
of another. Naturally vain and susceptible of flattery, he per- 
haps doubted not of really supplanting Lord Percy in her affec- 
tions. He was at least determined to divide her from his rival, 
without having any distinct idea in what manner he should 
attach her to his own person. In this perplexity he had recourse, 



THE LOVERS SEPARATED. 141 

as usual; to Wolsey ; who, at once to conceal and gratify his 
master's wishes, suggested the expedient of sending for the old 
Earl of Northumberland, by whose parental prerogative the 
engagement might be cancelled without any other interference. 
In the meanwhile he undertook, by his own authority, to pre- 
vent Lord Percy from seeing the object of his love ; a task in 
which he employed neither persuasion nor kindness, but, if we 
may credit Cavendish, upbraided and rebuked his folly with the 
most unfeeling asperity ; commanding him, as he valued life and 
honour, for ever to desist from the pursuit of Anne Boleyn. 

Contrary to his ordinary habits of deference and submission, 
the young lord justified his choice, expressing his conviction 
that his father could form no reasonable objection to his mis- 
tress, who, in birth and accomplishments, was fully his equal ; 
and " though," he added, ^' she be but a simple knight's 
daughter, by her mother she is well nigh the Norfolk blood, and 
her father is one of the heirs general of the Earl of Ormond."* 

Incensed, or rather, perhaps, alarmed at this opposition, the 
cardinal arraigned his disloyalty ; adding, that though the lady 
knew it not, she was, by her sovereign, promised to another, with 
whom he was sure she would be well satisfied. At this fatal in- 
timation, aggravated by the idea of Anne's possible infidelity, 
Lord Percy could no longer restrain his tears ; and, in an agony 
of grief, such as can only be felt when the heart is suddenly 

* From this passage, it appears that his attachment took place be- 
fore September 1525, when Sir Thomas Boleyn was created Viscount 
Rochford. The editor of Henry's love-letters, in the Harleian Miscel- 
lany, pretends that Anne Boleyn did not come to England till 1527 ; 
a palpable mistake, since the Earl of Northumberland, the father of 
Lord Percy, died in 1526. 
13 



146 WOLSEY AND NORTHUMBERLAND. 



bereaved of hope and happiness, lie implored the cardinal' s in 
tercession to soften the King in his favour ; protesting that he 
had given his mistress a pledge never to he withdrawn but with 
the sacrifice of honour. Disconcerted by tenacity so little ex- 
pected; the wary statesman broke off the conversation, and in- 
stantly despatched a special messenger to the north, who was 
charged not to return without the Earl of Northumberland. 
With whatever surprise or displeasure the earl received the 
summons, it was one to which he presumed not to refuse implicit 
obedience. When his barge reached York Grate, the cardinal 
proceeded to the gallery, to welcome his noble guest, and without 
allowing him to exchange a word with his son, conducted him to 
his private apartment. Their interview was long but decisive. 
Little as the earl was disposed to resist the prerogative, which had 
been long exercised by the sovereign, in forming or controlling the 
alliances of noble subjects, he was, perhaps, as little inclined to 
accept, as his daughter-in-law, a woman who had received a 
foreign education, and who, though '^ well nigh" to the Norfolk 
blood, was not heiress to the estates of Butler and Ormond. 
With avidity, therefore, did he listen to the cardinal's represen- 
tations, and readily promised to adopt his prudent counsels. 
After this satisfactory explanation, they parted with every de- 
monstration of cordial friendship; and the earl, that no sus- 
picion might remain of his real intentions, in repassing the 
gallery, took his seat on a bench in front of the river, and call- 
ing to him his son, who approached with humble reverence, in 
the presence of the pages and the other nu.merous attendants, 
publicly reprehended his late conduct, solemnly enjoining him, 
on the penalty of disinheritance, to renounce for ever the hope 
of being united to Anne Boleyn. The dialogue, as related by 



n- V' 



NORTHUMBERLAND UPBRAIDS HIS SON. 147 

Cavendish, affords a curious picture of the domestic manners of 
the age, and strikingly exemplifies the slavish submission ex- 
acted for parental authority.* " Son, quoth he, even as thou 
art, and always hast been, a proud, licentious, disdainful, and a 
very unthrifty waster ; so hast thou now declared thyself : where- 
fore, what joy, what comfort, what pleasure or solace shall I 
conceive of thee, that thus, without discretion, hast misused thy- 
self, having neither regard unto thy natural father, nor unto 
thy natural sovereign lord, to whom all subjects loyal bear 
faithful obedience, nor yet to the wealth of thine own estate, 
but hast so unadvisedly assured thyself unto her, for whom 
thou hast purchased the King's high displeasure, intolerable 
for any subject to sustain; and, but that his Grace doth con- 
sider the lightness of thy head, and wilful qualities of thy 
person, his displeasure and indignation were sufl&cient to cast 
me and all my posterity into utter ruin and destruction ; but 
he being my singular good and fatvourable Prince, and my 
lord Cardinal my good lord, hath and doth clearly excuse me 
in thy lewd fact, and doth rather lament thy lightness than 
malign me for the same, and hath devised an order to be 
taken for thee, to whom both thou and I be more bound than 
we be able well to consider : I pray to God, that this may be 
unto thee a sufficient admonition to use thyself more wisely here- 
after ; for that as I assure thee, if thou dost not amend thy 
prodigality, thou wilt be the last Earl of our house; for, of thy 
natural inclination, thou art disposed to be wasteful and prodigal, 

* Cavendish appears, in imitation of contemporary chroniclers, to 
have at least lengthened, if not composed, the speeches here detailed. 
They are, however, corroborated by the Twisden manuscripts, lately 
published in Dr. Nott's Life of Wiatt. 



148 ANNE'S RESENTMENT. 

and to consume all that thy progenitors have with great travail 
gathered; and kept together with honour ; but loving the King's 
majesty^ my singular good and gracious lord, I trust, I assure 
thee, so to order my succession, that ye shall consume thereof 
but a little ; for I do not intend, I tell thee truth, to make thee 
my heir ; for, thanks be to Grod, I have more boys, that, I trust, 
will prove much better, and use themselves more like world-wise 
and honest men, of whom I will choose the most likely to suc- 
ceed me. Now, good masters and gentlemen (quoth he unto us,) 
it may be your chances hereafter, when I am dead, to see these 
things, that I have spoken to my son, prove so true as I speak 
them : yet, in the mean season, I desire you all to be his friends, 
and to tell him his fault when he doeth amiss, wherein ye shall 
show yourselves friendly unto him ; and here (quoth he), I take 
my leave of you ; and, son, go your ways unto my lord, your 
master, and attend upon him according to thy duty. And so 
he departed, and went his way, down the hall, into his barge/^ 

In the mean while, a similar task was imposed on Sir Thomas 
Boleyn, who, however unwilling to relinquish such an advanta- 
geous connection, was equally prompt in obeying the King's 
wishes, and consented to withdraw his daughter from the court, 
without suffering a murmur to escape his lips. It was other- 
wise with Anne, who, naturally high spirited and ingenuous, 
could neither suppress nor conceal her resentment. She was, 
however, so far from penetrating the real cause of her disappoint- 
ment, that she attributed it exclusively to the cardinal's mali- 
cious interference ; and, on leaving the palace, protested with an 
impetuosity which, fatally for herself, she never learnt to con- 
trol, that she would some day find the means to requite the 
injury. 



CHAPTER V. 

ANNE BOLEYN's RETIREMENT AT HEVER CASTLE. RECALL TO 

COURT. CELEBRATED BY SIR THOMAS WIATT. PROGRESS 

OF henry's ATTACHMENT. 

Anne's Apartment at Hever Castle — The Boleyn Family — Discord — 
Marriage "of Percy — Henry visits Hever — Her Father promoted — 
Sir Wm. Carey — Anne returns to Court — Her Sentiments towards the 
King — Scholars at Court — Fineux Diplomacy — Lawyers — Poets and 
Authors — Wiatt and Surrey — Wiatt's Admiration of Anne — His 
Attentions — Wiatt a Protestant — The Jewel — Henry's Gallantry — 
The King — Correspondence — Henry's Letters — Anne's Prudence — A 
Game at Cards — Catherine's Forbearance — The Pope's Bull — Law of 
Divorce — Wolsey's Policy — Henry's Courtship. 

On quitting the court, Anne Boleyn indignantly retired to 
her father's favourite residence at Hever Castle.* The aspect 
of this edifice, which had been originally built in the reign of 

^ Hever Castle, in Kent, derives its name from a Norman Baron, 
who, under Edward the Third, obtained the King's license to embattle 
his manor-house. By his daughters it was conveyed to the families of 
Cobham and Brown. The former having acquired the whole by pur- 
chase, sold it to Geoffrey Boleyn. On the death of Sir Thomas Boleyn, 
in 1538, Henry, with matchless rapacity, claimed it in right of a wife, 
from whom, previous to her being beheaded, he had been divorced. 
The manor was afterwards settled on the Lady Anne of Cleves ; after 
her death, granted to Sir Edward Waldegrave, from whose family it 
passed to the Humphreys, and finally to the family of the Medleys in 
Sussex. 

]3* (149) 



150 HEVER CASTLE. 

Edward the Third; was venerable and imposing. In its moated 
walls, its Grothic turrets, and military drawbridge, might be traced 
the same stern features of feudal magnificence which reigned 
in the majestic towers of Wresil Castle, that ancient seat of the 
Percies, of which she had so lately hoped to become the mistress. 
The entrance to this mansion was by a gateway, flanked with 
round towers, and protected by a portcullis ; but hospitality 
reigned within that mansion, of which the approach was rude 
and uninviting. The spacious hall recalled the image of baronial 
festivity, and on the windows of the long winding gallery, Anne 
Boleyn might trace a series of heraldic honours, sufficiently illus- 
trious to challenge alliance with the house of Percy. In her 
mother's right she beheld the four-coated shield of Howard, Bro- 
therton, Warren, and Mowbray ; whilst with still greater exulta- 
tion she traced the eight quarters of Hoo, St. Omer, Malmains, 
Wickingham, St. Leger, Wallop, Ormond, that emblazoned her 
paternal escutcheon.''' The wainscoted apartment which she 
occupied, with plain oaken panels, is yet in existence. The long 
gallery she so often traversed with impatience, still seems to re- 
echo her steps j and after the vicissitudes of three centuries, the 

•^ The armorial bearings of the Boleyns, with an additional shield 
of the Waldgraves, are still preserved on the windows of the castle. 
For Ormond, there is argent, three buckles, gules ; a shield of four 
coats for Brotherton, Howard, Warren, Mowbray ; a shield of eight 
coats for Bulleyn, Hoo, St. Omer, Malmains, Wickingham, St. Leger, 
Wallop, Ormond. — Anne Boleyn's armorial bearings were originally — 
argent, a cheyreux between three bull's heads, couped sable. When 
she was created Marchioness of Pembroke, these were disused, and 
another was granted. — See Sandford's Genealogical History of the 
Kings of England. 



THE BOLEYN FAMILY. 151 

impression of Iier youth, lier beauty, and singular destiny, 
remains fresh and vivid to the susceptible imagination. In re- 
verting to the tragical history of the passions, we cease to mea- 
sure the distance that separates us from a departed age ; and 
whilst each surrounding object wears an antiquated aspect, we 
revert with lively interest to those records of suffering and feel- 
ing which can never become obsolete : the image of one, whose 
heart has long ceased to throb with human emotion, still speaks 
to our sympathies, and imperatively appeals to our pity or our 
justice. 

The settlement of the Boleyns in this neighbourhood, origi- 
nated with the prosperous citizen. Sir Geoffrey, who, not satisfied 
with having acquired the manor of Blickling, in Norfolk, secured 
to his heirs a retreat in Kent, by purchasing from the ancient 
family of the Grandisons the manor of Kemsing, including the 
villages of Hever, Scale, and Brocas. In the eyes of his suc- 
cessor, Sir William Boleyn, Bochford Hall possessed more at- 
tractions; but Sir Thomas, who probably found his revenue 
inadequate to the support of that stately mansion, eagerly em- 
braced every opportunity to extend his Kentish demesnes ; and 
having exchanged with the King, New Hall, in Essex, for certain 
rights of property in this county, he enlarged the bounds of 
Hever Castle, embellished the surrounding plantations, and 
finally selected it for his principal residence. It has been already 
observed, that the prosperity of Sir Geoffrey Boleyn was not 
transmitted to his descendants in equal proportions. Of the 
numerous daughters of Sir William Boleyn, one alone was raised 
to the honours of nobility, by marrying the Marquis of Dorset. 
Of his sons, the second settled in Norfolk ; John entered the 
church ; whilst Edward, like his eldest brother, Thomas, aspired 



152 FAMILY DISCORD. 

to preferment ; and having married Jane Dacre^ the heiress of Sir 
John Temj^est^ obtained a place at court; and^ with his wife^ at- 
tendedin the suite of Henry and Catherine^ at Gruisnes. * Although 
the harmony of these two brothers appears not to have been 
interrupted, it was otherwise with their respective consorts, 
the Lady Edward, and the Lady Elizabeth Boleyn, in whose 
distaste to her sister-in-law, Anne is said to have strongly 
participated. Nor was much cordiality preserved in their 
intercourse with the Howards, since the name of Boleyn 
is not discovered in the list of visiters whose names are 
preserved among the domestic archives of Tendring Hall."|" 
It is not surprising that the reign of Henry the Eighth should 
have been fruitful in examples of unnatural hostility among the 
nearest domestic connections. The atmosphere of his court was 
little favourable to the growth of those benevolent or tender 
affections, which never flourish amidst the perpetual alarms of 
jealousy, rivalry, and competition. The preferment that depends 
on the caprice of an arbitrary individual must often be unjustly 
withheld, or unworthily bestowed. Irritated by care and cha- 
grin, the disappointed become suspicious, — the persecuted imbibe 
the spirit of malignity, — the desire of vengeance constitutes the 
hope and the solace of despair. Neither the ties of blood nor 
the sympathies of friendship afford protection from those baser 
passions incident to a state of moral and political degradation. 

* See Pedigree in the Appendix. Lady Edward Boleyn, afterwards 
Lady of the Bedchamher to Queen Anne Boleyn, appears to have been 
envious of her niece's advancement. 

■j- The chief residence of Thomas Earl of Surrey, afterwards Duke 
of Norfolk. An account-book is still extant, in which is a list of the 
visiters, with an account of every day's fare. See Nott's Life of Surrey. 



MARRIAGE OF PERCY. 153 

Whilst Anne Boleyn was repining in exile, the situation of 
her lover was still more painful. It was not enough that he 
had been separated from the woman he adored. To satisfy the 
King's despotic passion, he must be compelled to pledge his faith 
to another bride ; and finally the Lady Mary Talbot, the youth- 
ful daughter of the Earl of Shrewsbury, was forced on his 
reluctant acceptance. The authority of his sovereign, or the 
pusillanimity of his father, prevailed over fidelity and love ; and 
at the moment that his high-spirited mistress indulged dreams 
of hope and happiness, she was suddenly stunned by the intel- 
ligence, that Lord Percy was really married. It is easy to con- 
ceive how acutely she felt, how bitterly she resented, the in- 
jury ; with what vehemence she accused the unfaithful lover, 
whose facility must have incurred contempt, even more than 
Wolsey or Henry had provoked abhorrence. Anne was of that 
ardent temper, which is too often betrayed to violence and in- 
justice j but her resentments, though keen, were not permanent, 
nor could she be classed with those wary dissemblers, who brood 
over real or imaginary wrongs in vindictive silence. At this 
moment there is no reason to believe she divined the true source 
of her disappointment : even her father's sagacity appears not 
to have penetrated the mystery ; and he probably attributed the 
royal interposition solely to that spirit of domination which he 
had long remarked in his jealous sovereign's character, of whom 
it was too justly predicted, that he would not scruple to strike 
off even a favourite^ s head, if it obstructed his views of advan- 
tage.* 

* A saying of Sir Thomas INIore, in reply to the congratulation of his 
son-in-law, Roper, on his having received a visit from the King, who 
walked with him in his garden at Chelsea, putting his arm around his 



154 HENRY VISITS HEVER. 

According to local tradition^* however, tlie mist vanished 
from his eyes, when he suddenly saw the King arrive by stealth 
at Hever, on some frivolous pretext, which ill disguised his real 
errand, that he came hut to steal a glimpse of the lovely Anne 
Boleyn. Alarmed by this marked attention, Sir Thomas is said 
to have sedulously withdrawn his daughter from the King's 
vi«w, and during his visit, on the plea of indisposition, to have 
kept her confined to her chamber. Whatever credit be attached 
to this tale, it is certain that a considerable time intervened 
before Anne resumed her place at court •,'f and that her father, 
created Lord Viscount Rochford, was advanced to the office of 
treasurer of the royal household. By this elevation, however, 
no sinister suspicion could he awakened, since the long and 
faithful services of Sir Thomas Boleyn might have challenged a 
more liberal recompense ; and even envy was silenced by a liberal 
distribution of similar favours on other courtiers. In the num- 
ber of these new peers were two royal children ; of whom the 
one, the offspring of the French Queen and the Duke of Suffolk, 
was created Earl of Lincoln 3 and the other, Henry's own son 
by Lady Tallbois, exalted to the dignity of Duke of Richmond 

neck, and leaning familiarly on his shoulder: "I thank the King's 
Grace," said More; "but albeit he is a gracious prince, if my head 
could win him a castle in France, it would not long be on these shoul- 
ders." 

•^' See the account of Hever Castle, in Hasted's Kent. 

f See Cavendish, whose authority is quoted by Lord Herbert, and 
tacitly referred to by Bishop Godwin. It is also worthy of remark, that 
many of the details respecting Anne Boleyn, originally supplied by 
the former writer, who is well known to have been gentleman-usher to 
Cardinal Wolsey, are substantiated by the MS. of another gentleman 
resident in the family, which has been lately published in the Appen- 
dix of Dr. Nott's Life of Sir Thomas Wiatt. 



SIR WILLIAM CAREY. 155 

and Somerset ; an elevation by which he rather evinced fondness 
for his offspring than respect for his people. 

Nor was it only in his own person that Sir Thomas Boleyn 
tasted of royal munificence : his son-in-law, Sir William Carey, 
was advanced to the post of gentleman of the privy chamber. 
Descended from an ancient family in Devonshire, this gentleman 
possessed hereditary claims on the gratitude of the House of 
Lancaster : his father had fought under its banner, till, by the 
fatal chance of war, falling into the hands of the Yorkists, he 
was ignominiously dragged from the sanctuary to the scaffold. 
Of his two sons, John, the elder, succeeded to the patrimonial 
demesnes ;* whilst William, the younger, was, like Charles Bran- 
don, patronized at court, and placed as an esquire about the 
King's person. In this situation it was his fortune to win the 
hand (contrary to her mother's will) of Mary Boleyn, whose fair 
blooming complexion, and lightbrown tresses, are said to have 
sometimes wrested from her sister the prize of beauty. f 

At length Anne Boleyn was recalled to court; a summons 
that, it may be presumed, she awaited with impatience, not so 

* Cockington, in Devonshire. — Sir John Carey was the progenitor 
of the celebrated Lucius Lord Falkland, who evinced such generous 
loyalty to Charles the First. 

f A portrait of this lady is in existence at Warwick Castle. Mary 
Boleyn is always mentioned by historians as the younger sister ; and, 
supposing Anne to have been born in 1507, must have married very 
early. Sanders, indeed, pretends that she was many years older than 
Anne, and had been previously seduced by Henry ; but of this he can 
adduce no other proof than two or three declamatory passages in Car- 
dinal Pole's letters, in which the absence of fact is attempted to be sup- 
plied by invective. It was obviously the ol)ject of the Catholic party to 
fix on Henry such suspicions as must invalidate the scriptural argu- 
ments in favour of his divorce. From a passage in one of Henry's let- 



156 ANNE RETURNS TO COURT. 

mucli because she siglied for pleasure, as because she longed to 
evince, by the gayety of her deportment, that she esteemed not 
her former lover worthy of regret. At this period it was scarcely 
possible she should have entertained for Henry any favourable 
sentiments : it may be doubted whether she even regarded, 
with complacency, the domestic tyrant, who already neglected 
that Queen, for whom, if we may credit her encomiastic biogra- 
her,* she was disposed to feel sincere attachment. Under other 
circumstances, she might have admired his majestic form, his 
animated countenance, and gallant deportment ; but she could 
not easily forget that he had opposed her elevation, scarcely 
could she forgive that he had disparaged her alliance ; and it may 
reasonably be supposed, that resentment lurked even in the 
smiles with which she met the King's expressive looks of pas- 
ters to Anne Boleyn, it should seem that this Mary Boleyn, whose first 
husband died in 1528, had by some indiscretions forfeited her mother's 
regard : nothing, therefore, could be more apt for the fabrication of 
the calumny afterwards obtruded on notice ; which, when coolly ex- 
amined, is too preposterous to require refutation. Is it possible to be- 
lieve, that Anne Boleyn would have been exposed by her parents to 
that seduction, which to her sister had already proved fatal ? To sup- 
pose this, would almost be paramount to an admission of the disgust- 
ing story fabricated by Sanders, which even Cardinal Pole leaves un- 
supported. It is pretended, that Mary Boleyn, instigated by envy of 
her sister Anne's ti'iumph, apprised Queen Catherine of her own in- 
trigue, and that she consequently became the object of that sister's 
hatred ; but it appears from the correspondence, that Henry himself, at 
the request of Anne, promised to intercede with her father to assist 
Mary Bolej^n after her husband's death. By Sir William Carey she 
had two children : a son, who became Baron Huusdon ; and a daughter, 
who was married to Sir Philip Knolles, Mary Boleyn's second hus- 
band was Sir William Stafford. See Appendix. 
^ Wiatt. 



SCHOLARS AT COURT. 157 

sionate admiration. lu Henry's court, she might also have dis- 
covered many men more accomplished than her despotic sovereign. 
At the very opening of his reign there had been a dawn of im- 
provement, of which the progress was already perceptible : the 
nobility were then celebrated as the patrons of letters ; they were 
now more honourably distinguished as the ornaments of litera- 
ture ; many of them were ambitious of literary eminence, and 
not a few deservedly admitted to literary fame.* The love of 
classical learning had revived in the clergy, by whose authority 
schools and colleges for the education of youth were raised, on 
the very site of monastic establishments. It is worthy of remark, 
that almost all Henry's satellites, however dissimilar in their 
habits, or their vocations, were confessedly men of approved 
diplomatic ability. To the Duke of Suffolk, the Earl of 
Worcester, and Sir Edward Poinings, were awarded the 
first honours in jousting. Audley,f Wriothesley,J and Fi- 

* Bourchier Lord Berners translated Froissart's Chronicles; Parker 
Lord Morely left several poems : these were the precursors of George 
Boleyn, Wiatt, and the incomparable Surrey. 

f After the death of Sir Thomas More, Sir Thomas Audley became 
chancellor, who appears to have been an excellent time-server. He 
supported the King's prerogative in parliament, and consulted the in- 
clinations of the Queen-consort at court ; choosing rather, according to 
Loyd, the expedient than the laicful, 

" He enforced six bills against the clergy ; 1. The extortion of their 
courts ; 2. The exaction of their crops and mortuaries ; 3. Their worldly 
occupations, as grazing, tanning; 4. Their merchandise; 5. Their non- 
residence ; 6. Their pluralities. When custom was urged in favour of 
these abuses. Sir Thomas Audley replied, ' The usage hath ever been 
for thieves to rob at Shooter's Hill ; is it therefore lawful ?' " 

% Thomas Wriothesley, afterwards Earl of Southampton, was born 
14 



158 FINEUX. 

neux^* acquired pre-eminence at the bar ; but (witb the exception 
of Sir Anthony Cookef) there was scarcely one of his confidants 

in the Barbican. Loyd praises him extravagantly ; but that he was 
detested as the instrument of Henry's cruelty and oppression, appears 
from the following lines, written by one of the Earl of Surrey's 
friends : — 

From vile estate, of base and low degree, 

By false deceit, by craft, and subtle ways ; 

Of mischief mould, and key of cruelty, 

Was crept full high, borne up by sundry stayes ; 

Picture of pride, of papistry the plat, 

In whom treason as in a throne did sit. 

With ireful eye, or glearing like a cat ; 

Killing by spight whom he thought fit to hit ; 

This day is dead, — his soul is down to hell. 

Noifs Life of Surrey. 

* Sir John Fineus, born at Swinkfield, in Kent, of obscure origin ; 
he had engraven on his sergeant's ring the motto, " Suce quisque fortuncB 
faber ;" and it was his saying, " that no man thrived, but he that lived 
as if he were the first man in the world, and his father were not born 
before him." Forty years (says Loyd) he lived by industry. Under 
Henry the Seventh he was a patriot ; and having resisted the imposi- 
tion of the penny tax, the King, respecting or fearing his talents, made 
him a judge, and showered on him preferment. Sir John Fineux ap- 
pears to have improved every advantage ; since he married a rich wife, 
and was steward for one hundred and twenty-nine manors. The most 
honourable part of his character is, that he opposed the exactions of 
Empson and Dudley. 

-}■ Sir Anthony Cooke, of mercantile extraction, was born at Giddy 
Hall, in Essex. His daughter Mildred was married to Cecil, the Lord 
Treasurer ; his daughter Anne to Nicholas Bacon, Lord Chancellor ; like 
Sir Thomas More, he determined to qualify his daughters to become 
companions to men of sense. Lord Seymour was so much struck with 



DIPLOMACY. 159 

who bad pretensions to celebrity, but bad been engaged in foreign 
embassies, and negotiations. This peculiarity may in part bo 
• referred to Henry's predilection for employing men of talents, 
whom he had drawn from indigence and obscurity. Aware of 
this trait in his character, it became the business of his confidants 
and favourites to discover suitable objects of royal patronage ; and 
as a course of continental travelling was essential to a liberal edu- 
cation, it was customary to send each of these young probationers, 
with an adequate pension,* to France, Italy, or G-ermany, on the 

his method of instruction, that he recommended him to be the tutor o-f 
his nephew Edward. During Queen Mary's reign, this wise and excel- 
lent man lived in the retirement best suited to his taste : he appears 
to have possessed all the amiable domestic affections of Sir Thomas 
More, without his religious bigotry or singularity. 

■^ According to Loyd, the pension allowed was 125^. per year. Speak- 
ing of Petei's, he adds, " His tutor is assigned, who had been there 
before, and could instruct him what he should see, where he should 
go, what acquaintance to entertain, what exercise or discipline to 
undergo ; his instructions were drawn up, as that he should keep a 
diary of what the chiefest places, and the eminent persons, either apart 
or in conventions, yielded worthy of remark, and observation ; to have 
before him a map or chart of every place he goeth to ; not to stay long 
in any place ; to converse with no Englishman, but agents, ambassa- 
dors, or such brave persons as his majesty would direct him to ; to 
endeavour after recommendations from persons of quality in one place 
to those in another ; keeping still his correspondence with the most 
public and eminent persons of every respective place." It is added, 
" That within five years he returned the complete gentleman ; correct- 
ing the vices of one country with the virtues of another, and being 
one happy composition of every region." This Peters, also, was a 
native of Devonshire, born at Exeter, whence he was sent to All-souls- 
college. Sir Thomas Boleyn chose him to be his son's tutor. 



160 THE COURT. 

single condition^ — that they should maintain with the minister 
a private circumstantial correspondence, by which he was enabled 
to form a correct opinion of their comparative talents and dis- 
cretion. Of the youths thus trained, many arrived at the first 
honours of the state, and all acquired a polish of manner and an 
aptness in conversation, which rendered them the ornaments of 
society. Henry had, at his accession, found but one lawyer in 
the privy council. In this respect he deviated wisely from his 
father's system : under Wolsey's active superintendence the 
forensic profession rose in general estimation ; and the bar be- 
came the nursery of the senate and the council. 

It is remarkable that Sir Thomas More and Sir Anthony 
Cooke coincided in their ideas on the subject of female education, 
and harmonized in their views of domestic felicity. Among the 
more illustrious courtiers there were some who still remained to 
support the dignity and splendour of the throne : of these. Sir 
Edward Poinings, who had been elected one of the presiding 
judges of the tournament at Guisnes, was the bravest cavalier, 
and Sir John Russell, Earl of Bedford, the most accomplished 
gentleman. Of the numerous diplomatists. Dr. Wotton* and 

* Dr. Wotton went on thirteen embassies to foreign princes ; a man 
of singular wisdom and modesty. Henry the Eighth once said to him, 
" Sir, I have sent a head by Cromwell, a purse by Wolsey, a sword by 
Brandon, and I must now send the law by you, to treat with my 
enemies." — "Many," says Loyd, "envied this happy man ; but none 
could do without him, who could sum up the merit of any cause, recol- 
lect the circumstances of any affair, and show tables of trade, com- 
merce, situation, revenue, interest, the readiest and exactest of any in 
England." Wotton appears to have possessed a happy facility in his 
religious opinions ; since he had the favour of Henry, the confidence 
of the council ; belonged to Mary's junta, and to Elizabeth's statesmen. 



I 



POETS AND AUTHORS. 161 

Sir Thomas Boleyn were constantly in requisition. Sir William 
Paget attracted most esteem abroad ; and Sir Robert Morison,* 
" who was equally alert in a dance, a tourney, and a treaty, 
gained most favour at home.'' Nor must mention bo omitted 
of Sir Ralph Sadler, the only one, if we may believe the epi- 
grammatic Loyd, in whose favour Henry the Eighth waived his 
objection to little men.f 

In adverting to the learned and ingenious men of the day, it 
might be invidious to overlook poets and authors, were they not 
almost uniformly identified with scholars and theologians. That 
our native literature was still neglected, is evident ; since Sir 
Thomas More, and many other ingenious men, continued to write 
in a language familiar only to the learned reader. The living 
spring of English poetry, at which Chaucer had slaked his thirst for 
immortality, was neglected — almost forgotten. Skelton| was 
the fashionable poet, whose uncouth rhymes owed their point 
and their popularity rather to malice than to wit.§ Of the 

* Sir R. Morison was distinguished by the superior elegance of his 
Latin discourses. Tall and majestic, he was precisely such a man as 
Henry the Eighth wished to make his representative. 

•j- Sir Ralph Sadler was born at Hackney : he became the retainer 
of Cromwell, who had been the servant of Wolsey, and was by Henry 
appointed secretary of state. Versatility and activity were his dis- 
tinguishing qualities : he knew how to fight and to write ; and was 
equally able as a civilian and a negotiator. When this knight attended 
Cromwell to Rome, his seiwant kindly purchased a pardon for the sins 
of his master and all his descendants, to the third generation. — See 
Fuller and Loyd. 

I The poet laureat: who, although he satirized Wolsey, panegjo-ized 
the customs and manners of the female nobility. 

^ Hawes was also popular ; as was Barclay, the translator of Argenis. 



162 SIR THOMAS WIATT. 



ancient minstrelsy some relics still existed in fragments of ballads 
or songS; of which the pathos and simplicity bespoke a welcome 
from every heart. 

Amidst this desolation of the native muse^ it was reserved for 
two or three young men^ of gentle blood and liberal fortune, to 
rebuild the altars and restore the schools of English poetry. 
Of these, the most active and successful were Sir Thomas Wiatt 
and the Earl of Surrey, the one the cousin, the other the im- 
passioned admirer of Anne Boleyn. 

In the education of Wiatt was included whatever was held to 
be necessary to the formation of an accomplished gentleman. 
His early childhood had been devoted to classical studies, and 
gymnastic exercises. At eighteen he travelled, and at twenty 
returned to England, endowed with every personal and mental 
quality that could excite the envy of one sex, or inspire enthusi- 
asm in the other. From his cradle he had been destined for 
the court : his father. Sir Henry Wiatt, descended from an an- 
cient Kentish family, having filled with reputation several depart- 
ments in the royal household, easily obtained for his son the 
appointment of gentleman of the privy chamber ; but the young 
poet was formed for better things. Born on the banks of the 
Medway, he had spent his early childhood at Allington Castle, 
amidst such romantic scenery, as, when nature has given sensi- 
bility, affords healthful nourishment to the poetical character. 
His education was not only suited to his station, but happily 
calculated to elicit his talents. In devouring the classical pages 
of Grreece and Rome, he imbibed the spirit, he received the va- 
ticidal inspiration which is only to be communicated or received 
by kindred genius. His first efforts were made in Latin verse; 
but observing that France and Italy possessed living poets, and 



1 



CHIVALRIC ADMIRATION. 163 

a national lay, he patriotically resolved to dedicate his pen to 
the restoration of nglish literature, and to devote his ambition 
to the honour of his country. 

Wiatt is first mentioned by the court-chroniclers in 1525, 
when he was promoted, with William Carey, already mentioned, 
to the rank of gentleman of the privy chamber ; and, according 
to the custom of the day, exhibited his prowess and his gallantry 
in a tourney and a masque, with which the King was well satis- 
fied. At this spectacle, Anne Boleyn appears not to have been 
present ', and as Wiatt notoriously held in contempt these puerile 
entertainments,* he was, perhaps, little disposed to relish his 
official duties, till they were soothed and enlivened by her pre- 
sence. At what precise time they became acquainted is not 
known ; but he has recorded in a short poem the impressions 
which he received, and accompanied his description of her coun- 
tenance with an intimation that he would fain be at liberty to 
bind himself to her for ever.f 

Unfortunately, by the care of a provident father, the poet had 
been tied to the daughter of Lord Cobham, at an age when he 
could neither form a rational choice, nor hope to inspire a last- 
ing attachment ; but this circumstance precluded not his address- 

* Wiatt, being once pressed by Henry to appear at a masque, replied, 
** Truly a man is not so "wise by day, that he should play the fool at 
night." 

f " The knight, in the beginning, coming to behold the sudden ap- 
pearance of this new bewtie, came to be holden and surprised some- 
what with the sight thereof. After much more, with her graceful and 
wittie speeches, his eare also had been chained to her, so as finally his 
heart seemed to say, ' I could gladly yield to be tied for ever with the 
knot of her love,' as somewhere in his verses he has been thought to 
express." — See the Life of Queen Anne Bolen. 



164 WIATT'S ATTENTIONS. 

ing another lady in the language of Platonic love. There were 
few yonng beauties who were not, or who sought not to be, the 
objects of a fictitious passion, often assumed from motives of 
vanity, or policy, according to the worldly situation of the re- 
spective parties. Under the fanciful names of Mistress and 
Servant, ample license was allowed to breathe sentiments of a 
more tender nature : nor, by this, so long as the female party 
should remain unmarried, was the least injury offered to her 
reputation. Till that period, it was her undoubted privilege, 
like Chaucer's j3Emilia, to tolerate the adoration of contending 
knights, and accept the oblations of unnumbered suitors ; to listen 
to vows she was expected to contemn ; to accept of gifts not to 
be repaid ; to authorize efforts and sacrifices never to be requited ; 
■■ — all this was permitted to a beauty, without attaint or blemish 
to her maiden fame : but if she once allowed herself to depart 
from the passive system that custom prescribed to her sex, — if 
she suffered her champion to wear in public some token of her 
special favour, as a riband, a glove, or any other memorial 
of tender attachment, — from that moment her discretion was 
compromised, her character impeached; such concessions being 
authorized only when the suitor was an honourable lover, to 
whom she was eventually to pledge her faith at the hymeneal 
altar. 

Accustomed from infancy to the language of adulation, Anne 
Boleyn was not disposed, even for such a man as Wiatt, to out- 
step the limits of female decorum. She could not, however, be 
displeased to see herself distinguished by one of the most at- 
tractive and accomplished men of the age; and was, perhaps, 
rather tempted to invite than to reject his flattering attentions. 
Proud of the songs she inspired, she might, perhaps, have sym- 



WIATT A PEOTESTANT. 165 

pathized in the feelings they expressed, had not discretion found 
an auxiliary in pride, and ambition fortified those sentiments of 
honour which she unquestionably possessed. But we are told 
that " though she rejected all his speach of love, it was in such 
a sort as whatsoever tended to regard of her honour, she shewed 
not to scorn. For the general favor and good will she perceived 
al men to bear him, which might the rather occasion others to 
turn their looks to that in her, which a man of his worth was 
wrought to gaze at/'* 

It was impossible but that the society of such a man as Wiatt 
should have essentially contributed to the developement of her 
talents and taste ; and it was from him, probably, rather than 
the Queen of Navarre, that she imbibed her partiality for the 
.lew opinions. It cannot be said that Wiatt was the partisan of 
Luther : his opinions were rather derived from Wickliffe, and 
the elder reformers, who had detected the corruptions, and resist- 
ed the usurpations of the Romish hierarchy. Without investi- 
gating the subject as a theologian, Wiatt had an intuitive con- 
viction, that infallibility could not reside in any individual, or 
assembly of individuals, and that the enormous prerogatives 
which under these pretensions had been assumed and exercised, 
were founded on superstition and usurpation. To his acute dis- 
cernment no argument could be necessary to enforce the convic- 
tion, that the influence of an unmarried body of clergy, an order 
of men bound to society by none of its domestic charities and 
affections, was inimical to the morals and happiness of the com- 
munity. As an Englishman, he indignantly disclaimed that 
allegiance to any foreign potentate implied in the rights of papal 
supremacy, and which he held to be subversive of national 

* Wiatt's Queen Anne Bolen. 



166 WIATT AND WOLSEY. 

dignity and independence. Tlius the heresy of Wiatt originated 
in patriotism; and he gloried in resisting the Pope^ and in pro- 
claiming the freedom of his country. 

Against Wolsey^ as the gigantic Atlas that upheld the pon- 
derous fabric of ecclesiastical power, he cherished an acrimony 
of feeling (strikingly contrasted with the amenity of his general 
character*) which, perhaps, conspired with his fine qualities to 
make a favourable impression on Anne Boleyn. Of all who 
approached her, Wiatt appears to have been most worthy to win 
her confidence ; though a poet and a courtier, he despised the 
arts of flattery, and the sinister meanness of adulation. Many 
of his witticisms have been transmitted to us ; but amongst them 
we find not a single compliment addressed to his lady or his 
sovereign. The independence and originality of his mind, com- 
municated to his sentiments an energy almost irresistible ; and 
whether he conversed with the youthful Earl of Surrey, with 
the accomplished George Boleyn, or with his beloved sister, he 
was to each and to all a monitor, a guardian, and a dictator. In 
the progress of their romantic intimacy, the professed serva7it 
appears to have insensibly become the real friend ; and thus an 
intercourse originating in frivolous gallantry was exalted into an 
honourable and faithful attachment. 

In the mean while, Henry, no indifierent observer of Anne 
Boleyn' s movements, shortly after her return to court had taken 
an opportunity to present to her a valuable jewel, which was 

^ Such was Wiatt's 'beiievolence, that he delighted to recommend 
another to notice and favour ; and so many were indebted to his good 
of&ces with the King, that, on occasion of any sudden preferment, it 
became the current saying, <' that such-an-one had been in Sir Thomas 
Wiatt's closet." 



HENRY'S GALLANTRY. 167 

accepted and worn without reserve.* No impropriety was at- 
tached to such attentions : on various occasions, it was even a 
point of etiquette for the cavalier to offer gifts to the lady whom 
he admired or celebrated, pro tempore, as his 'niistress.-\ Even 
the repetition of such favours was not alarming to virgin modesty; 
and whether Anne divined or mistook the King's purpose, she 
affected to be wholly free from suspicion. But when, encouraged 
by this forbearance, Henry ventured on an undisguised avowal 
of his passion, she replied with scorn, in the words of Lady Eli- 
zabeth Gi-rey, that " she was too good to be a King's mistress."^ 
Apologies and concessions followed; and, finally, the haughty 
Henry was content to enter the list with Wiatt and other obse- 
quious admirers, as her cavalier and servant. The following 
minute detail of these Platonic rivals offers a curious picture of 
polite society at the commencement of the sixteenth century. § 

* Sanders, Heylin, &c. 

f This custom long continued to be prevalent during certain public 
festivals. In the time of Cromwell, Whitelock, after the manner of an 
English cavalier with his mistress, gave a treat to Queen Christina of 
Sweden, on May-day. 

X Anne's rejection of the King's (first dishonourable) overture is 
mentioned both by her advocate Heylin, and her calumniator Sanders. 

g Nothing like precision or accuracy is attempted in the traditional 
little work, from which this passage is extracted. But the anecdotes 
it contains appear to have been originally furnished by Sir Thomas 
Wiatt and his contemporaries. In the middle of the seventeenth cen- 
tury, they were collected by one of his descendants, but without the 
least attention to chronological arrangement. It is therefore impos- 
sible to ascertain at what period the King presented the ring to Anne 
Boleyn ; a ceremony which, had it been performed before witnesses, 
would have been equivalent to a formal betrothment. It will, however, 



168 WIATT'S ATTENTIONS. 

" About this time, it is said, that the knight (Wiatt) enter- 
tanynge talk with her, as she was earnest at work, and sport- 
ingewise caught from her a certin small jewel, hanginge by a 
lace out of her pocket, or otherwise loose, which he thrust into 
his bosom ; neither with any earnest request could she obtain it 
from him againe ; he kept it, therefore, and wore it after about 
his neck under his cassoque, promising to himself either to have 
it with her favor, or as an occasion to have talk with her, wherin 
he had singular delight ; and she after seemed not to make much 
recconinge of it, either the thinge not beinge much worth, or 
not woorth much strivinge for. The noble prince having a 
watchful eie upon the knight, noting him more to hover about 
the lady, and she more to keepe aloof of him, was whetted the 
more to discover to her his affection, so as rather, he liked first 
to try, of what temper the regard of her honor was, which he 
finding not any way to be tainted with those things his kingly 
majestic and means could bringe to the batterie, he in the end 
fell to win her by treaty of marriage ; and in this talk took from 
her a ring, and that ware upon his littel finger ; and yet al this 
with such a secresie was carried, and on her part so wisely, as 
none, or verie few, esteemed this other than an ordinarie cours 
of dalliance. Within few daise after, it happened that the king, 
sporting himself at bowles, had in his company, as it falls out, 
divers noblemen and other courtiers of account ; amongst whom 

be found, that tlie statement of Wiatt is confirmed by the testimony 
even of those foreign and English writers who have most laboured to 
traduce her reputation ; and it is remarkable that Bp. Burnet, to whom 
he appears to have been personally known, in his History of the Ee- 
formation refers to this identical manuscript, and in his refutation of 
Sanders quotes his authority. 



THE RING. 169 

might be the Duke of Suffolk, Sir F. Brian, and Sir T. Wyatt ; 
himself being more than ordinarie pleasantly disposed, and in 
his game takinge an occasion to affirm a cast to be his, that 
plainly appeared to be otherwise ; those on the other side sayed, 
with his grace^s leave they thought not ; and yet stil he, point- 
inge with his finger whereon he ware her ringe, replied often, it 
was his, especially to the knight, he said, ' Wyat, I tel thee, it 
is mine J smiling upon him withal. Sir Thomas, at the lengthe, 
casting his eye upon the king's finger, perceived that the king 
ment the lady, whose ring that was which he wel knew, and 
paused a littel ; and finding the kinge bent to pleasure, after the 
words repeated again by the kinge, the knight replied, and if it 
may like your majestic to give me leave to measure it, I hope it 
will be nmiCj and withal took from his neck the lase, whereat 
hung the tablet, and therewith stooped to measure the caste, 
which the king espiinge knew, and had seen her wear; and withal 
sporned away the bowle, and said, ^ It may be so ; but then I 
am deceived,' and so broke up the game. This thing, thus 
carried, was not perceived of many, but of some few it was. 
Now the king resortinge to his chamber, shewing some resent- 
ment in his countenance, found means to break this matter to 
the lady, who with good and evident proofe how the knight came 
by the jewel, satisfied the king so effectually, that this more 
confirmed the king's opinion of her truth and virtue, than him- 
self at the first could have expected."* 

* On the circumstance related in this anecdote appears to have been 
founded the ridiculous story, quoted from Sanders, by several French 
and Spanish writers, and repeated by Davanzati in his Schisma d'ln- 
ghilterra; in which it is pretended, that Wiatt confessed to King Henry, 
that he had carried on a criminal intrigue with Anne Boleyn. It is 

15 



170 HENRY'S LETTERS. 

The ccarespondence of Henry with Anne Boleyn enables us 
more distinctly to trace the progress of their courtship. The 
three following letters appear to have been written in an initial 
stage of the connection^ almost before Henry had shaped to him- 
self a definite object^ or Anne thought it prudent to confide in 
his unqualified professions of attachment."^ 



Letter I. 

{Translated from the French.)^ 
My mistress and friend ; — I and my heart put ourselves into 
your handS; begging you to recommend us to your favour, and 
not to let absence lessen your alfection to us. For it were 

often the fate of calumny to confute itself: had Wiatt ever made this 
impudent ayowal, it is impossible that Henry should have allowed him 
to remain at court ; where, however, he continued in great favour, long 
after Anne's coronation. 

'-^ By the agency of some treacherous domestic, these letters were 
stolen from Anne Boleyn's cabinet, and conveyed to the Vatican at 
Rome ; where they were detected by Bp. Burnet, who procured a copy, 
^afterwards published in the Harleian Miscellany, the editor of which, 
in attempting to fix the precise period at which they were written, falls 
into the mistake of Burnet, in assuming as a fact, that Anne Boleyn 
came not into England until the year 1527 ; and that these letters were 
all written in 1528. Without reiterating the arguments already ad- 
duced to prove that Anne must have come to England many years sooner, 
it is easy to discover, that the letters were not written consecutively, 
but at different intervals, and on various occasions. In the four which 
are here introduced, no allusion is made to the legate, so often men- 
tioned in the others ; whence it may fairly be presumed, that they were 
antecedent to the negotiation respecting the divorce. 

f See the original French at the end of the volume. 



HENRY'S LETTERS. 171 

great pity to increase our pain, which absence alone docs suffi- 
ciently, and more than ever I could have thought ; bringing to 
my mind a point of astronomy, which is, that the farther the 
Mores* are from us, the farther too is the sun, and yet his heat 
is the more scorching : so it is with our love ; we are at a dis- 
tance from one another, and yet it keeps its fervency, at least on 
my side. I hope the like on your part, assuring you, that the 
uneasiness of absence is already tpo severe for me ; and when I 
think of the continuance of that, which I must of necessity suf- 
fer, it would seem intolerable to me, were it not for the firm 
hope I have of your unchangeable affection for me ; and now, to 
put you sometimes in mind of it, and seeing I cannot be present 
in person with you, I send you the nearest thing to that possible, 
that is, my picture set in bracelets, with the whole device, whic-h 
you know already, wishing myself in their place, when it shall 
please you. This from the hand of 

Your servant and friend, 

H. Rex. 



Letter II. 
To my mistress j 

Because the time seems to me very long, since I have heard 

from you, or concerning your health • the great affection I have 

for you has obliged me to send this bearer to be better informed, 

both of your health and pleasure, particularly, because, since my 

* The inexplicability of this passage ought perhaps to be attributed 
to some blander in the transcriber ; since Henry, though often pedan- 
tic, is on other occasions perfectly intelligible. The original letters in 
Henry's own hand are still extant in the Vatican, to which they were 
restored after the re-establishment of the Bourbons in France. 



172 HENRY'S LETTERS. 

last parting with you, I have been told, that you have entirely 
changed the opinion in which I left you, and that you would 
neither come to court with your mother, nor any other way; 
which report, if true, I cannot enough wonder at, being persuaded 
in my own mind, that I have never committed any offence against 
you ; and it seems a very small return for the great love I bear 
you, to be kept at a distance from the person and presence of the 
woman in the world that I value the most; and, if yo<a love me 
with as much affection as I hope you do, I am sure, the distance 
of our two persons would be a little uneasy to you. Though 
this does not belong so much to the mistress as the servant, 
consider well, my mistress, how greatly your absence grieves me ; 
I hope it is not your will that it should be so; but, if I heard 
for certain, that you yourself desired it, I could do no other 
than complain of my ill fortune, and by degrees abate my great 
folly ; and so, for want of time, I make an end of my rude 
letter, desiring you to give credit to this bearer in all he will 
tell you from me. Written by the hand of your entire servant. 



Letter III. 

By turning over in my thoughts the contents of your last 
letters, I have put myself into a great agony, not knowing how 
to understand them, whether to my disadvantage, as I under- 
stand some others, or not : I beseech you now, with the greatest 
earnestness, to let me know your whole intention, as to the love 
between us two. For I must of necessity obtain this answer of 
you, having been above a whole year struck with the dart of 
love, and not yet sure whether I shall fail, or find a place in 
your heart and affection. This uncertainty has hindered me of 



HENRY'S LETTERS. 173 

late from naming you my mistress, since you only love me with 
an ordinary affection ; but if you please to do the duty of a true 
and loyal mistress, and to give up yourself, body and heart, to 
me, who will be, as I have been, your most loyal servant (if 
your rigour does not forbid me), I promise you that not only the 
name shall be given you, but also that I will take you for my 
mistress, casting off all others that are in competition with you, 
out of my thoughts and affection, and serving you only. I beg 
you to give an entire answer to this my rude letter, that I may 
know on what and how far I may depend. But, if it does not 
please you to answer me in writing, let me know some place 
where I may have it by word of mouth, and I will go thither 
with all my heart. No more, for fear of tiring you. Written by 
the hand of him, who would willingly remain yours, 

H. Rex. 



Letter IV. 
To the same. 
For a present so valuable, that nothing could be more (con- 
sidering the whole of it), I return you my most hearty thanks, 
not only on account of the costly diamond, and the ship in which 
the solitary damsel is tossed about ; but chiefly for the fine in- 
terpretation and too humble submission which your goodness 
hath made to me. For I think it would be very difficult for me 
to find an occasion to deserve it, if I was not assisted by your 
great humanity and favour, which I have sought, do seek, and 
will always seek to preserve by all the services in my power, 
and this is my firm intention and hope, according to the motto, 
aut illic ant iniUihi (either here or nowhere). The demonstra- 
15* 



174 ANNE'S PRUDENCE. 

tions of your affections are sucli^ the fine thougLts of your letter 
so cordially expressed, that they oblige me for ever to honour, 
love, and serve you sincerely, beseeching you to continue in the 
same firm and constant purpose ; and assuring you, that, on my 
part, I will not only make you a suitable return, but outdo you 
in loyalty of heart, if it be possible. I desire you also, that, if 
at any time before this I have in any sort offended you, you 
would give me the same absolution that you ask, assuring you, 
that hereafter my heart shall be dedicated to you alone. I wish 
my body was so too : God can do it, if he pleases, to whom I 
pray once a day for that end, hoping that at length my 
prayers will be heard. I wish the time may be short ; but I 
shall think it long till we shall see one another. Written by 
the hand of the secretary, who, in heart, body, and will, is 

Your loyal. 

And most assured servant. 



From these letters it is evident that Henry not only loved but 
esteemed his mistress. Impressed with admiration and respect 
for her mental endowments, he displays all his wit and learning, 
conscious that he is addressing one by whom they will be duly 
appreciated. In the course of this correspondence, Henry is said 
to have declared hig intentions to the lady's father, "to whom,^' 
adds the biographer, " we may be assured, the newes was not a 
littel joyful.'^ By Anne herself, however, if we may credit his 
assertion, the persuasion was admitted with reluctance : " She 
stood stil upon her guard, and was not, as we would suppose, so 
easily taken with al this apparance of happines : whereof two 
things appeared to be the causes ; the one the love she bare ever 
to the Queen, whom she served, that was also a personage of 



ANNE'S PRUDENCE. 175 

greate virtue; the other, her conceit, that ther was not that free- 
dom of conjunction with one that was her lord and king, as 
with one more agreeable to her.'' 

Allowing for the exaggerations of an encomiast, it is impossi- 
ble to withhold from Anne Boleyn the praise of consummate pru- 
dence and discretion. By her father, she had probably been 
apprised of the rumour already prevailing on 'the continent, that 
Henry intended to solicit the Pope for a divorce, on the plea of 
having contracted an illegal marriage : if this were true, Anne 
might with plausibility aspire to the throne ; if it were false, she 
should at least preserve her self-respect, and escape the contempt 
invariably attached to frailty. A high sense of moral and re- 
ligious duty might have impelled her to reject the boon, that 
must be purchased by invading another's right, — to renounce an 
honour never to be obtained without ingratitude and injustice. 
But it should be remembered, that the character of Anne was 
not formed on the pure simplicity of gospel precepts; nor had 
she learnt, like the daughters of a Cooke or a More, to place her 
happiness in intellectual pursuits, and the endearments of do- 
mestic aifection. Images of splendour and greatness were the 
objects first presented to her infant eyes; and it was one of the 
earliest lessons imprinted on her mind, that they could scarcely 
be obtained at too dear a price. 

In that age of mingled profligacy and superstition, the beauties 
of the court seldom escaped reproach.* Anne aspired to the 
praise of unblemished chastity, and in this distinction, with rea- 
son, triumphed. If she identified pride with dignity, or mistook 
the impulses of vanity and ambition for the aspirations of piety 

* The injured Duchess of Norfolk, in complaining of her husband's 
cruelty and infidelity, observes, that she had lived fifteen years at court, 
and, in all that time, preserved her reputation. 



176 CATHERINE'S FORBEARANCE. 



and virtue, slie had unhappily the whole corps of English nobi 
lity to sanction and confirm the delusion ; and candour demands 
that her actions be judged according to the same moral standard, 
by which praise or blame is measured to her rivals and contem- 
poraries. 

It was not long before Catherine perceived the secret intelli- 
gence between her husband and her attendant, whom she often 
challenged to play with her at cards, in the royal presence ; will- 
ing, as was supposed,* to give the enamoured Prince an oppor- 
tunity of contemplating the supplemental nail, which, to her 
prejudiced eyes, appeared an ominous deformity. On one of 
these occasions, Catherine, by a sort of caustic pleasantry, allu- 
ded to their mutual situation. In the game at which she was 
playing with Anne Boleyn, it was a rule, in dealing the cards, 
to stop on turning up the king or queen : it happened that the 
maid of honour stopped more than once on producing the king, 
which Catherine remarking, exclaimed, ^^ My Lady Anne, you 
have good luck to stop at a king : but you are not like others ; 
you will have all or none.^^* In general, the Queen treated her 
with the utmost courtesy and respect; partly, as she afterwards 
acknowledged, because she was determined, by her forbearing 
gentleness, to deprive Henry of every pretext for complaint, and 
partly because she hoped by complaisance to retain some little 
hold on his affections. In reality, her mild submission appears 
for a considerable time to have disarmed the violence of Henry's 
impetuous temper; and, but for some peculiar circumstances, 
might, perhaps, have obtained the victory, even over a feeling 
ardent as that inspired by Anne Boleyn. 

It is well known, that the strong and unchangeable passion 

* Wiatt, 



1 



THE POPE'S BULL. 177 

of Henry's soul was to transmit the crown to his immediate 
posterity. From childhood, he had bestowed gratuitous hatred, 
on all who approached the verge of a disputable succession. As 
his despotism increased, his suspicions redoubled : even the feeble 
claims of Buckingham had aroused his jealous vengeance; and 
in this view Yorkists and Lancastrians became equally the objects 
of his abhorrence. Sensible that a female must carry the suc- 
cession into another family, he had long passionately desired a 
male heir, through whom the su]3remacy of the Tudor line might 
be triumphantly perpetuated, and whose claim should silence 
competition, and compel allegiance. Unused to constraint or 
opposition, he contemplated with fretful impatience the reiterated 
disappointment of his favourite object : and since the blessing he 
asked in vain was denied to no other prince in Europe, he began 
to regard, with superstitious aversion, the consort from whom he 
no longer hoped to obtain its accomplishment. 

The state of his feelings had been long since divulged to 
Wolsey, who, guessing his aim, in 1524, published, by virtue 
of his legatine mandate, the Pope's Bull against marriages con- 
tracted within forbidden degrees. Whether Henry's secret 
solicitude was in some degree appeased by this preliminary step 
towards the recovery of his liberty, or whether his alliance with 
Charles convinced him of the impossibility of dissolving his 
union with Catherine, it appears, that he never explicitly avowed 
his determination till he had conceived a serious passion for 
Anne Boleyn.* 

Originally it had formed no part of Henry's plan, to raise a 
private gentlewoman to the throne : and he had almost as strong 
an impediment to combat in his own pride, as in the constancy 

* See Cavendish. 



178 LAW OF DIVORCE. 

of his mistress; but no sooner had love prevailed, than even 
pride conspired with native obstinacy to promote the interests 
of his passion ; and having once pledged his word, he resolved 
to hold it sacred, even though he should hazard by it the loss of 
his kingdom. To make this promise was easy ; but it required 
all the vehemence of the lover, all the inflexibility of the tyrant, 
to surmount the obstacles that opposed its fulfilment. Hitherto, 
indeed, the court of Rome had offered to princes a commodious 
relief for the evils of an ill-assorted marriage, since, in the com- 
plexity of the Ecclesiastical Canons, some pretext of consangui- 
nity, or plausible irregularity, was easily discovered, for redressing 
the grievance. It imported little to the admission of such claims 
that they were founded in equity or truth. Within Henry's own 
existence, the Romish tribunal had authorized Louis the Twelfth 
of France to repudiate a blameless wife, that he might espouse 
the heiress of Brittany. More recently, Henry's own sister, 
Margaret, had obtained a divorce from the Earl of Angus, on 
the plea of prior contract : she had since espoused Lord Stewart, 
and was again a suitor for the abrogation of her nuptial vows. 

Unfortunately for Henry, the unimpeachable conduct of Ca- 
therine left him no alternative but to rest his plea on the cano- 
nical prohibition against marrying a brother's widow. More 
unfortunately still, that objection had been previously obviated 
by a papal bull of dispensation, especially granted for the mar- 
riage with Catherine, and consequently he had no better resource 
than to impugn the authority of one Pope, at the very moment 
he was soliciting the assistance of another ; a strange solecism in 
the Defender of the Faith, the avowed champion of the church 
against the heretical innovations of Luther ! It was impossible 
that Henry should entirely close his eyes to the complicated 



WOLSEY'S POLICY. 179 

difficulties and impediments of his undertaking ; and even to 
Wolsey he appears not to have communicated the ultimate object 
of the enterprise^ but to have confined himself to the question 
of divorce, without reference to Anne Boleyn. Whether the 
cardinal was entirely the dupe of his artifice, must be left to 
conjecture. To gratify his sovereign, he frequently gave enter- 
tainments, at which the object of his affection was present,* and 
where, alternately with her lute, her voice, and her exquisite 
grace, she exerted all her powers of fascination, and intoxicated 
his senses with delight. By his admiration, however ardent, 
the cardinal was, perhaps, the less alarmed, from having pre- 
viously witnessed similar attentions to Lady Talbois ; concluding 
that, as in that instance, a dishonourable intrigue was to termi- 
nate the connection. On some occasions, he had, perhaps, ob- 
served in Anne Boleyn an air of coquetry and levity, which 
impressed him with unjust suspicions of her real character; but 
Wolsey was not present during those more private interviews, 
when Henry saw his mistress in the bosom of her family, and 
when, having gladly escaped from the court at Eltham or Green- 
wich, he mounted his fleetest steed, and, accompanied by two or 
three confidental attendants (among whom were Norris and 
AVestonf), rode towards Hever. 

^ " The Cardinal espying the great zeal that the King had conceived 
in this gentlewoman, ordered himself to please as well the King as 
lier ; dissimuling the matter that lay hid in his breast, and prepared 
great banquettes and high feastes to entertaine the King and her at 
liis own house. And thus the world began to grow to wonderful inven- 
tions, not heard of before in this realrae. Love betwixt the King and 
this gorgeous lad}" grewe to such perfection, that divers imaginations 
were imagined, whereof I leave here to speake." Cavendish's Life of 
Wolsey. See Wordsworth's Edition. 

f Afterwards beheaded. 



180 HENRY'S COURTSHIP. 

Tradition still points to the hill in front of the castle, where 
the well known bugle announced the King's approach, and his 
impatience to be admitted to the beloved presence. At this 
welcome signal, the drawbridge lowered, the gates were thrown 
open, and Henry found all his constraint and trouble overpaid 
by a single glance exchanged with Anne Boleyn. In these 
happier moments, when, dismissing the tyrant and the sovereign, 
he was surprised sometimes into feelings of tenderness and be- 
nevolence, with what horror would he have recoiled from the 
awful visions of futurity ! with what indignation rejected the 
prophecy, that he should hereafter destroy the woman whom he 
then adored, — that he should listen impatiently for the gun which 
was to proclaim the stroke of death, and look with eagerness for 
the fatal flag, which was to assure him she breathed no more !* 

^' There is a tradition, that the King went from Richmond to a spot 
where he could hear the gnns, and discern the black flag, that an- 
nounced Anne Boleyn's execution. 



CHAPTER VI. 

COMMENCEMENT OF THE PROCESS OF DIVORCE. 

Wolsey's State — His Disappointment — Battle of Pavia — Dr. Pace — Wol- 
sey's Intrigues — Siege of Rome — Negotiations -with Francis I. — Wol- 
sey's Mission to France — His Return — Opinions of the Bishops — 
Anne hated by Wolsey — Her Protestantism — Her Letter to Wolsey — 
Reasons for Anne's Conduct — Her good qualities — Wiatt's Poems — 
Henry Howard — George Boleyn — Embassy from France — Banquet — 
The King's Tent — His Treat — Almoner Fox — Gardiner — Henry's 
Letter — Cardinal Campeggio — Henry's Duplicity — His Scruples — 
Relations of Catherine and Anne — Catherine's Popularity — The 
Sweating Sickness — Sir William Carey — Sickness of Anne — Her 
Recovery — Discontent of the People — Anne leaves the Court — Posi- 
tion of Henry — Henry's Letters to Anne — Cardinal Campeggio's 
Negotiations — Hlness of the Pope — The Consistorial Court — Pathe- 
tic Address of Catherine — She denies the jurisdiction and quits the 
Court. 

During a long scries of years, Cardinal Wolsey bad been tlie 
envied favourite of fortune, contending witb monarcbs in power, 
and surpassing tbem in magnificence. 

Tbe establisbment of bis bousehold was truly regal;* and 

* Three tables were served in his hall within the palace. In his 
kitchen presided a master-cook, habited in a suit of velvet or satin, and 
decorated with a chain of gold : a superfluous population of yeomen and 
grooms swarmed in each department, having under them a troop of 
menials, by whom its duties were effectively executed. The chapel 
was served with a dean, and forty persons of various denominations. 
Eight hundred individuals are said to have been in his household. 

16 (181) 



182 WOLSEY'S STATE. 

wlienever he left his palace, it was with the air of a conqueror 
who demanded a triumph. During term-time, his daily progress 
to Westminster Hall was watched and hailed like the pageant 
of a public festival. Habited in crimson robes, with a tippet of 
black sables about his neck, he mounted, with a semblance of 
apostolical humility, a mule trapped in crimson velvet. Before 
him were borne in state the symbols of his authority : — ^first was 
displayed the broad seal of England ; the cardinal's hat was then 
exhibited ; two red crosses next attracted the eye ; and beyond 
marched two pillar-bearers in solemn state ;* on either side rode 
nobles and gentlemen; whilst four footmen preceded the cardi- 
nal's mule, each presenting the gilt poleaxe, the ensign of justice, 
to the awe-stricken spectator. Wherever the sublime Legate 
approached, he was greeted with spontaneous obeisance; "On, 
on, my masters!" was vociferated from every quarter: '^E.oom 
for the Cardinal ! make way for my Lord Cardinal I" On alight- 
ing at the Hall, he was surrounded by numerous suitors, to whom 
he assumed an air of courtesy, rather condescending than gra- 
cious ; and it was observed that he often applied to his r.ostrils 

^ TMs procession is ttus described by Skelton : — 

With worldly pomp incredible, 
Before Mm rideth two prestes stronge, 
And tliey bear two crosses rigbt longe, 

Gapynge in every man's face : 
After tliem follow two laymen secular, 
And eache of tbem holdinge a pillar, 

In tbeir handes stead of a mace. 
Then foUoweth my lord on his mule, 

Trapped with gold. 
Then hath he servants five or six score, 
Some behind and some before. 



HIS DISAPPOINTMENT. 183 

a hollow orauge^ filled with sponge steeped in aromatics and 
vinegar^ avowedly to protect himself from contagion. Owing to 
a defect of sight, his looks seemed averted from the misery 
which sometimes reached his ear without touchinc; his heart. 
Such was Wolsey, the butcher's son, — the Boy Bachelor of Mag- 
dalen College, — the adventurer of Calais ! Every morning wit- 
nessed the renewal of these honours, and every night he retired 
to rest, fatigued, if not satisfied, with the incense of adulation. 

Under this flattering exterior of felicity, a secret discontent 
corroded the cardinal's breast; and all the j^rosperity of his 
former life, perhaps, scarcely counterbalanced the mortification 
he experienced, when to Adrian succeeded Julius de' Medici in 
the papacy ; an event which at once disclosed to him the Em- 
peror's ingratitude, and his own credulous facility. To aggra- 
vate his chagrin, fortune continued to smile on Charles, who 
triumphed by the very means he had used to arrest his progress, 
and obscure his glory. 

By an article of the treaty contracted between Charles and 
Henry, it was stipulated that the latter should furnish a monthly 
subsidy to the Duke of Bourbon, who commanded the imperial 
troops in Italy, and depended on this supply for their subsistence. 
At the end of the first campaign (in 1524), Wolsey, who had 
already entered into a secret correspondence with an agent in the 
interest of France, recalled the English troops, and privately 
withheld the money so anxiously expected. 

In this emergency the Duke of Bourbon, with the courage of 
desperation, attacked the French army, and obtained the cele- 
brated victory of Pavia, in which Francis " lost all but life and 
honour." It was, perhaps, not the least galling of Wolsey's 
chagrins, that he had publicly to celebrate mass in honour of a 



184 DR. PACE. 

monarcli wlio repaid liis services with unkindness and contempt. 
Fortunately for the cardinal, Henry, who piqued himself on 
preserving the equilibrium of power, hecame alarmed at the pro- 
gress of his ally, and readily agreed to enter into clandestine 
engagements with the Regent Louisa, to effect the liberation of 
her son, and to preserve untouched the integrity of the French 
empire. 

It is a melancholy reflection, that, in civilized as in barbarous 
nations, the most unoffending or meritorious individuals are often 
the victims immolated to the insatiable spirit of conquest, or the 
calculations of sordid policy. Of this truth, one of the best 
scholars of the age, Dr. Richard Pace (the meritorious successor 
to Dean Colet, at St. Paul's), was destined to become the unfor- 
tunate example. Eminently distinguished by that elegance and 
delicacy of taste which seem in unison with correct moral feel- 
ing, he had attracted Henry's notice by the purity and eloquence 
of his Latin compositions ; and was frequently employed by him 
as a diplomatic agent in G-ermany and Italy. Seduced by the 
blandishments of royal favour, this almost ascetic recluse, to 
whom a library was in reality dearer than a kingdom, suffered 
himself to be drawn into the snares of Wolsey's tortuous policy, 
and undertook to remit the subsidy to the imperial commission 
at Venice. Unpractised in duplicity, he was wholly unsuspicious 
of dishonourable conduct ; and, attributing to accident alone the 
suspension of the monthly stipend, actually raised, on his own 
credit, a considerable sum, though totally inadequate to the 
demand of the imperial agents. It was in vain he reiterated his 
importunities for money ; and he became at length convinced 
that application was as hopeless as unavailing: but the dis- 
covery came too late to indemnify him either in fortune or repu- 



ATTACK ON ROME. 186 

tation ; and such was his nice sense of honour and integrity, and 
such his abhorrence of the transaction in which he had been in- 
volved, that he suddenly withdrew from all society ; and, after 
alternate paroxysms of melancholy and frenzy, expired in a 
prison."*^ Such was the end of Pace, the companion of More 
and Fisher, and whose classical and liberal pursuits had extract- 
ed a tributary eulogium from Erasmus ! — one among many in- 
stances, how ill fitted is the man of refined moral feelings to 
coalesce with the great, or to struggle against power and in- 
justice. 

If the classical eminence of Pace had excited Wolsey's jea- 
lousy, his misfortunes inspired, not commiseration, but contempt ; 
there were however some circumstances resulting from the sup- 
pression of the subsidy, which called forth the minister's regret. 
In ransacking the French camp, the Duke of Bourbon had dis- 
covered, not merely sketches of the cardinal's correspondence 
with the Regent Louisa, but the draft of a secret convention be- 
tween the Pope and the Venetians, to guaranty, in concert with 
England and France, the independence of Italy. f To this de- 
tection in 1525 has been attributed his subsequent attack on 
Rome (in 1527J,) which was taken by storm, and exposed even 
to greater outrage than it had in former ages sufi'ered from the 
irruptions of the Goths or Vandals. Retreating to the Castle 

* See Godwin's History of Henry tlie Eighth. The same circum- 
stances are alluded to in Holinshed and Speed. It has been said that 
he was committed to the Tower by Wolsey. 

f Godwin's History of Henry the Eighth. 

J Pope Clement had also offended the Emperor, by absolving Fran- 
cis from his late engagement. See Godwin's History of Henry the 
Eighth ; also Holinshed. 
14* 



186 NEGOTIATIONS WITH FRANCIS. 

of St. Angelo, the Pope, perceiving no alternative Ibut to pur- 
cliase his liberty by an enormous ransom, or submit to the most 
ignominious treatment, sought relief from Henry, who eagerly 
embraced the moment to open the long-meditated suit of divorce. 

The secret whispers of princes are sometimes audible : and it 
is a curious fact, that before Henry^s intention was surmised in 
England, it had become the familiar topic of conversation in 
G-ermany, where it was naturally considered as the forerunner 
of his separation from the church of Rome. Under this persua- 
sion, Luther published an apology for his former epistle, in which 
he retracted the abuse he had lavished on Henry, by transferring 
it to Wolsey, and heartily congratulated the King, on being at 
length emancipated from the thrall of popery. To this ill-timed 
epistle Henry, who was about to solicit the Pope's assistance, 
and depended on the cardinal's co-operation, returned an ungra- 
cious answer, vindicating his minister from the aspersions of the 
Reformer, whose congratulations and compliments he disclaimed 
with ineffable contempt. 

It is well known how tedious was the imprisonment of Francis 
in Spain, how ungenerous the treatment he received, and on what 
hard terms he finally obtained his enlargement. Henry rejoiced 
at his restoration, since he hoped by his aid to fortify himself 
against the opposition which he foresaw must arise, on the Em- 
peror's part, to his aunt's degradation. The necessities of Francis 
furnished cogent motives for cultivating Henry's friendship. He 
eagerly despatched an embassy to England, to propose a treaty 
of marriage between his second son, Henry Duke of Orleans, 
and the Princess Mary. During this negotiation, the Bishop of 
Tarbes (who took an active part in the embassy), instigated by 
Wolsey, or probably solicited by Lord Eochford, started a doubt 



WOLSEY'S MISSION. 187 

respecting the legitimacy of the Princess, which was evidently 
meant to convey an insinuation against the validity of her 
mother's marriage. This first step was probably intended to 
prepare the public for the discussions which were hereafter to 
take place ; and to mature the plan, Wolsey once more visited 
France with the most splendid suite ever attached to an embassy, 
and was received by Francis with honours never before granted 
to any subject.* At Amiens, he was met by the King, his 
mother, and sister; when, more effectually to secure his master's 
interest, he proposed his marriage with Renee, the sister-in-law 
of Francis, afterwards united to the Duke of Ferrara ; a proof that 
at this moment he did not regard Anne Boleyn as wholly invin- 
cible. 

The real drift of the cardinal's negotiations seemed involved 
in almost anagrammatical perplexity. In public he proposed 
the redemption of the Pope's liberty ; in private, he dwelt on 
the possibility of detaching England for ever from Austria ; and 
from this process of reasoning, the expediency of promoting the 
divorce followed as a self-evident proposition. Whilst Wolsey 
was thus employed at Amiens, the King's agents in Kome were 
equally active, and Clement, who languished in captivity, and 
depended on Henry to furnish money for his ransom, readily 
promised compliance with his wishes, actually offering a bull of 
dispensation, which he well knew must be invalid till he obtained 
his iiberty.f Aware of this circumstance, Wolsey demanded 

* This embassy is most delightfully described by Cavendish ; from 
whom we learn, that in honour of Wolsey the prisons were thrown 
open, and even the execution of prisoners suspended ; and, to crown 
the whole, he was met by the Regent Louisa, and the Duchess of Alan- 
9on, attended by a hundred young ladies, each riding a white palfrey. 

f Godwin's History of Henry the Eighth. De Carte's History. 



188 OPINION OF THE BISHOPS. 

tlie appointment of vicar-generalj by which (armed with the 
Pope's delegated authority) he could venture to dispense the in- 
dulgence required : to this suggestion Clement dared not^ and 
Francis sought not to oppose objections; and Wolsey, elate with 
hope, returned to England, exulting in the success of his nego- 
tiation, for which his sovereign requited him, not only with 
smiles and thanks, but with what he would have gladly spared 
— the disclosure of his engagement with Anne Boleyn.* To the 
cardinal no communication could have been less acceptable; but 
he had long since discovered, that opposition served only to 
strengthen Henry's resolutions. He trusted therefore to time 
and chance, to eifect some alteration in the purpose, to which he 
apparently lent himself with dutiful alacrity ; and as a prelimi- 
nary step convened the bishops, and most eminent divines, to 
whom he propounded, on the ground of scriptural prohibitions, 
the scruples of the King's conscience. "j" The result of this con- 
ference was such as might have been expected ; the more obse- 
quious cordially assenting, whilst the more rigid acquiesced in 
silence : but they, with one exception, all subscribed the decla- 
ration, that to marry a brother's widow was unlawful. It was 
reserved for Fisher alone, the Bishop of London, the purity of 

* See Cavendish, wlio expressly states the fact. 

f It has been pretended hj Sanders, that Anne Boleyn engaged 
divines devoted to her interests to act on the King's conscience. This 
remark refutes itself, not only because it is palpable that his scruples 
originated in his inclinations, but because he was too expert in theolo- 
gical controversy to require such assistance, and had actually deter- 
mined to rest his cause on a single passage in Leviticus. If Anne 
Boleyn ever sent divines to Henry, it was at a subsequent period, when 
he really entertained a scruple, or at least betrayed a repugnance, to 
casting off the Pope's authority. 



ANNE'S PROTESTANTISM. 189 

whose morals sanctified even his bigotry, and who evinced, with 
the strictness of an ascetic, the heroism of a martyr, to maintain 
a contrary opinion. 

Dismayed by the success that crowned his appeal to the di- 
vines, Wolsey obtained some relief from the intelligence, that, 
whilst the imperialists were endeavouring to extort still harder 
terms of ransom, the Pope had escaped from St. Angelo to 
Orvieto, where he was more free to exercise his supreme prero- 
gative. At the first glance the cardinal calculated the probabi- 
lities contingent on this event; and whilst he recommended to 
his secretary, and to the almoner. Fox, to redouble their diligence 
and perseverance, he foresaw with satisfaction the impediments 
likely to arise to the progress of their negotiation. 

Of all women, Anne Boleyn was probably the last whom he 
would have chosen to succeed Catherine. Independent of the 
repugnance which so proud a man as Wolsey must naturally 
have experienced in witnessing the elevation of one long regarded 
as belonging to an inferior station, he could not but recollect the 
hostility which, with the exception of her father, he had shown 
to all her nearest relatives and connections, nor entirely dismiss 
the suspicion that they would repay, with interest, the mortifica- 
tions formerly inflicted by his pride or malevolence. But, per- 
haps, a still more cogent motive for alienation existed in Anne's 
supposed bias to Lutheranism, which to Wolsey, who cherished 
for the Catholic church the most bigoted devotion, was a crime 
of no common delinquency. 

It is not indeed very likely, that this gay and beautiful 
woman had entered deeply into polemical controversy; but she 
was decidedly opposed to the severity of that penal inquisition 



190 ANNE'S LETTER TO WOLSEY. 

establislied by the cardinal's legatine authority.* To the offence 
of reading Tindall's heretical bookS; she added the more heinous 
trespass of attempting to shield persecuted authors, and their un- 
fortunate admirers, from obloquy and punishment.^ Not with- 
out reason, therefore, did Wolsey deprecate Henry's union with 
a woman as much disposed to protect the followers of Luther, 
as her prototype, Anne of Bohemia, J had been to encourage the 
disciples of Wicliffe. But whatever might be his real senti- 
ments, he affected to take unremitted interest in her advance- 
ment. On her part, Anne either was, or appeared to be, per- 
fectly persuaded of his sincerity ; and, to judge by the following 
letter, repaid his liberal professions with equally lively demon- 
strations of cordiality and friendship. 

^^ My Lord ; 
'•'' After my most humble commendations, this shall be to give 
unto your Grrace, as I am most bound, my humble thanks for 
the great pain and travell that your grace doth take in studying 

^>' By Yirtue of his legatine autliority, the cardinal had not only 
engrossed to himself the prerogative formerly possessed by the Arch- 
bishop of Canterbury, of giving probates of wills, bnt instituted a 
regular commission for the detection and punishment of heresy. To be 
in possession of Tindall's Bible at that time constituted heresy. It 
was in 1527, when Wolsey assumed the title of the Pope's vicar-gene- 
ral, that he established a court at Westminster for the cognisance of 
heretical pravity, and a court in York House for the probates of wills. 
— See Fox. Strype's Memorials. Collier. 

^ Of this many instances are given by ecclesiastical writers. Her 
kindness in this respect was so notorious, that authors used privately 
to send their works for protection to Anne Boleyn. 

% The wife of Richard the Second, under whose auspices the Bible 
was translated into English. 



ANNE'S LETTER. 191 

by your wisdom and great diligence how to bring to pass ho- 
nourably the greatest wealth that is possible to come to any 
creature living, and in especial, remembering how wretched and 
unworthy I am in comparing to his highness ; and for you I do 
know myself never to have deserved by my deserts that you 
should take this great pain for me : yet daily of your goodness 
I do perceive by all my friends; and though that I had not 
knowledge by them, the daily proof of your deeds doth declare 
your words and writing toward me to be true. Now, good my 
Lord, your discretion may consider, as yet, how little it is in my 
power to recompense you, but all only with my good will, the 
which I assure you that, after this matter is brought to pass, 
you shall find me as I am bound. In the mean time, to owe you 
my service, and then look what thing in this world I can imagine 
to do you pleasure in, you shall find me the gladdest woman in 
the world to do it. And next unto the King's grace, of one 
thing I make you full promise, to be assured to have it, and that 
is my hearty love unfeignedly during my life. And being fully 
determined, with God's grace, never to change this purpose, I 
make an end of this my rude and true meaned letter, praying 
our Lord to send you much increase of honour, with long life. 
Written with the hand of her that beseeches your Grace to 
accept this letter, as proceeding from one that is most bound to 

be, 

^' Your humble and obedient servant, 

"Anne Boleyn.'' 

In reading this letter, we must either conclude that Anne 
Boleyn had pardoned Wolsey's former oiFence, or that she was a 
practised adept in duplicity ; a quality which in no other instance 
she was ever found to possess, and for which she even appears 



192 REASONS FOR ANNE'S CONDUCT. 

to have been incapacitated by the facility and even the impetuo 
sity of her temper. It is unlikely that the woman, who in no 
other instance evinced a vindictive character, should have che- 
rished eternal hatred against Wolsey, for a disappointment in 
which she must long since have discovered the basis of her 
splendid fortune. It is, however, not improbable that she had 
been disgusted by Wolsey's forwardness in promoting the King's 
dishonourable addresses; and that, as the cardinal's personal 
conduct was such as to preclude esteem, his professions might 
naturally inspire distrust. In justice to Anne Eoleyn, it should 
be remembered, that she had employed no artifice to obtain that 
pre-eminence in the King's regard, for which she was now alter- 
nately envied and flattered, hated and caressed. Compelled by 
his preference to renounce a prior attachment, she had rejected 
his passion with disdain, till it assumed the character of honour- 
able love. Even after Henry approached her with a legitimate 
object, she is said to have expressed repugnance to the idea of 
supplanting her Queen, and of uniting her destiny to one so far 
removed from her own station; but her scruples respecting 
Catherine, if they ever existed, soon yielded to theological argu- 
ments against the marriage, or political reasons in favour of the 
divorce : even her prophetic fears of Henry's inconstancy, or 
caprice, submitted to the passion for aggrandizing her family, to 
dreams of regal greatness, and romantic anticipations of fame 
and glory.* 

* " Some, with the ladie herself, plotted to break or stay at the least, 
till something might fall betweene the cup and the lip, that might break 
all this purpose ; with one of them, if it might have bin, and verily 
one of them might seem, for this present occasion, not unmeet to be 
recounted, which was this : — Ther was conveyed to her a book pretend- 



ANNE'S GOOD QUALITIES. 193 

It is worthy of remark, that even Cavendish,* the servant 
and eulogist of Wolsey, although he complains of her ill offices 
to his master, adduces against her no other proof of arrogance 
or malevolence, and far from insinuating suspicions injurious to 
her fame, contents himself with alluding to her habits of dress, 
and magnificence, and her keen relish for gayety and luxury-. In 
Anne Boleyn, the love of power appears to have been tempered, 
if not corrected, by benevolence. Of the mercenary calculation 
usually discovered in female favourites, she was absolutely inca- 
pable. She 'might be susceptible of flattery, or caprice, but 
spurned the meanness of either seeking or accepting a venal 
recompense, and never were her services bartered for gold. With 
her vanity was mingled a pardonable enthusiasm, inspired by 

ing old prophecies, wlierein was represented the figure of some per- 
souages, with the letter H upon one, and A, upon another, and K 
upon the third, which an expounder therupon took upon him to inter- 
pret by, the King and his wives ; and to her personage certain de- 
struction, if she married the King. This book coming into her cham- 
ber, she opened, and finding the contents, called to her maid, of whom 
we have spoken afore, and who also bore her name. Come hither, 
Nan, said she ; see here a book of prophecies ; this, she said, is the 
King ; this the Queen, mourning and wringing her hands ; and this is 
myself with my head ofi". The maid answered. If I thought it true, 
though he were an Emperor, I would not myself marry him, with that 
condition. Tut, Nan, replied the lady, I think the book a babel ; yet 
for the hope I have, that this realm may be happy by my issue, I am 
resolved to have him, whatever might become of me." — Wiatt'a Queene 
Anne Bolcn. This circumstance is also adverted to by Fox. 

* By Cavendish, her chastity is unimpeached, and he expressly says, 
she flourished in general estimation. Yet Cavendish composed his 
memoirs of Wolsey during the reign of Mary, to whom nothing coidd 
be so acceptable as abuse of Anne Boleyn. 
17 



194 . WIATT. 

the persuasion, that she was predestined to achieve some great 
object, a persuasion carefully fostered "by the partisans of the 
Reformation, who hovered round her with demonstrations of 
zeal and devotion.* Amidst all these brilliant prospects, it was 
impossible that she should always forget her privations in ex- 
changing, for dry disquisitions of polemics and politicians, the 
wit and eloquence of Wiatt, the vivacity of Sir Francis Brian, 
or the gayety and elegance of her brother's conversation. That 
she passionately admired Wiatt' s poems is well known ; and it 
may fairly be presumed, she was at least equally sensible to the 
charms of his conversation, which was confessedly still more 
attractive : but the influence of his society must have inflamed 

* Anne was a devout admirer of Tindall's works, and particularly 
of his Christian Obedience, which, with other heretical books, had been 
proscribed by Cardinal Wolsey ; of this work a curious anecdote, 
related by Wiatt, is corroborated in Strype's Memorials. In reading 
books, she made, on such passages as she most relished, private marks, 
which could be understood only by her familiar friends. Tindall's 
volume lying in her gentlewoman's apartment, was by her lover pur- 
loined, and carried to another house, and afterwards accidentally fell 
into the hands of Wolsey's chaplain, by whom it came into the cardi- 
nal's possession. Observing Anne Boleyn's annotations, he instantly 
carried the book to the King, thinking his affections would be alienated 
on discovering her heretical principles ; but Anne, who had anticipated 
his intentions, had already not only obtained Henry's absolution for 
reading the book, but prevailed on him to read it with her, and to be- 
come its advocate. There is some discrepancy in the account given 
by Strype and Wiatt. The latter is palpably incorrect, since he re- 
presents Anne as being already married, which was not till after the 
cardinal's death ; but both persist in attributing the motive to Wolsey. 
It is notorious, that the persecution for heresy was considerably remit- 
ted after her marriage, which may in part be ascribed to her influence. 



GEORGE BOLEYN. 195 

her ambition to signalize herself as a reformer, since the arro- 
gance and corruption of the Roman hierarchy formed his favour- 
ite theme of satire on which he wrote and spoke with equal 
spirit ; and the sentiments expressed in the following lines, 
though written t^n years after, had long been habitual to his 
mind. 

I am not now in France, to judge the wine, 

With savoury sauce and delicates to feed, 
Nor yet in Spain, where one must him incline, 

Rather than to be, outwardly to seem : 
I meddle not with wits that be so fine. 

Nor Flanders cheer letteth not my sight to deem 
Of black and white, nor taketh my rest away 

With beastliness, they beasts do so esteem. 
Nor I am not where Christ is given in prey, 

For money, poison, and trahison at Rome, 
A common practice, used night and day ; 

But here I am, in Kent, in Christendom. 

It may be doubted, whether Anne had naturally any aptitudes 
to the character of a stateswoman ; but her deficiencies were well 
supplied by her father, or, in his absence, her brother ; and she 
was, unhappily, under the influence of her secret enemy, the 
Duke of Norfolk, who sought, by her means, to displace Wol- 
sey, but was wholly indifferent to her real interest or prosperity. 
Of all her familiar associates the most congenial to her taste and 
temper were Wiatt, and her brother, George Boleyn, his chosen 
friend, and in some personal qualities his acknowledged rival. 
Like his sister, this young cavalier was distinguished by the ele- 
gant symmetry of his form, and the winning sweetness of hia 
manners : like his companion, he loved and cultivated poetry ; 
nor is it a feeble commendation of his talents to add, that his 



196 HENRY HOWARD. 

verses were often associated with the poems of Surrey^ and some- 
times mistaken for the productions of Wiatt's pen. With these 
young and brilliant reformers were connected Sir Francis Brian, 
a veteran cavalier, and the youthful Earl of Surrey, about not 
only to build the lofty rhyme, but to raise, in the production of 
blank verse, a monument of his taste and genius, imperishable 
as the English language. 

Henry Howard was at once the favourite of nature and for- 
tune ; but, like Wiatt, and the accomplished George Boleyn, he 
had been united, by parental authority, to the Lady Frances 
Vere, before he was of an age to form a deliberate choice. His 
fancy was captivated by another object, whom he has immortal- 
ized by the name of G-eraldine,but who participated so little in 
his passion, that she voluntarily pledged her nuptial faith to the 
old but wealthy diplomatist, Sir Anthony Brown. By a similar 
fate Wiatt had given his hand, without his heart, to Elizabeth, 
the daughter of Lord Cobham. After the impetuous season of 
youth was past, both these marriages were productive of as much 
happiness as is commonly to be found in domestic life ; but for 
George Boleyn was reserved a less fortunate destiny. In pledg- 
ing his faith to the daughter of Lord Morley, a nobleman cele- 
brated for literary taste and talent, he probably offered no violence 
to his inclinations, since the bride was young and handsome, and 
the connection advantageous and honourable ; but as the lady's 
character developed, he detected in it qualities the most adverse 
to domestic peace and harmony. To an inflammable and stub- 
born temper, she united pride, jealousy, and malignity ; and, 
fatally for her husband, these passions were soon excited by 
Anne Boleyn, whom she envied for her attractions, or detested 
for her celebrity. Another circumstance conspired, not only to 



LADY rvOCIIFORD. 197 

heighten, but, in her own eyes, perhaps, to justify her hatred. 
As a rigid Catholic, she regarded not merely with antipathy, but 
abhorrence, the Lutheranism of Anne, to whose influence she 
probably attributed her husband's heretical propensities. It is 
not known at what period of their marriage her husband became 
aware of her perverted nature : to the total absence of sympathy 
and congeniality he was soon conscious. On his part, indiffe- 
rence, and, perhaps, infidelity, succeeded to disgust;* with her, 
jealousy contended with hatred, till, finally, she sought to ruin 
the man she no longer hoped to subjugate. As a poet, George 
Boleyn is known only on the tablets of fame ; since the indivi- 
duality of his works is still lost in the mass of contemporaneous 
productions. But his merits are attested by his companions in 
life and glory, Surrey and Wiatt, with whose lays his numbers 
have been often associated, and some of whose most admired 
productions have been attributed to his anonymous pen.f 

* The name of Lord Rochford's mistress has not heen transmitted ; 
but it is notorious that he had a natural son, who was educated for the 
church, and ultimately became Dean of Peterborough. 

f In the commendatory verses prefixed to Gascoine's Poems, published 
in 1575, Lord Rochford is thus associated with Wiatt and Surrey: — 
Sweet Surrey swept Parnassus' springs, 
And Wiatt wrote of wond'rous things, 
And Rochford clambe the statelie throne, 
Which muses hold in Helicon. 

The following poem, said by Dr. Nott to have been written by Wiatt, 
has hitherto been invariably attributed to George Boleyn : — 

The Lover complaining of his Love's Unkindness. 
My lute, awake! — perform the last 
Labour that thou and I shal wast, 
17* 



198 



EMBASSY FROM FRANCE. 



During this season of care and perplexity to tlie King and 
Queen, Wolsey and Anne Boleyn, the court was enlivened by a 
scene of imposing splendour and festivity; and Henry's already 
impoverished coffers were drained to furnish a magnificent re- 
ception to a numerous embassy from France, headed by the 
grand-master; Montmorenci, who came to present the order of 

And end that I have now begoune : 
And when this song is sung and past, 
My lute, be still, for I have done. 

As to be heard, where ear is none. 
As lead to grave in marble stone, 
My song may pearse her heart as soon — 
Should we then sigh or sing or mone ? 
No, no, my lute ; for I have done. 

The rocks do not so cruelly 
Repulse the waves continually, 

As she my sute and affection; ' 

So that I am past remedy. 

Whereby my lute and I have done. 

Vengeance shall follow thy disdain. 
That makest but game of earnest payne : 

Think not alone, under the sunne, 
Unquit to cause thy lover's plain. 

Although my lute and I have done. 

May chance thee lie, withered and olde 
In winter nights that are so colde, 

Playning in vain unto the moone, 
Thy wishes then dare not to be tolde ; 

Care then, who list, for I have done. 

Two additional stanzas are admitted in Dr. Nott's editon of Wiatt's 
Works. 



BANQUET. 199 

St. Michael to the Euglish monarchy to confer respecting the 
projected marriage between Henry Duke of Orleans and the 
Princess Mary, and privately to suggest the most effective means 
of promoting the divorce. In honour of these distinguished 
guests, entertainmjents were given at Hampton Court and Green- 
wich by Wolsey and Henry ; which Cavendish has detailed with 
his usual deliciousness of description. On this extraordinary 
occasion, the cardinal convened a special council of officers of the 
kitchen, to whom he delegated unlimited powers in making the 
arrangements, with a strict injunction to be unsparing of expense. 
A consultation was next held with all the " caterers and expert 
cooks that might be gotten to beautify this noble feast. '^ No 
cessation of labour was allowed to domestics, surveyors, or arti- 
sans, till the auspicious day arrived; when one hundred and 
eighty French gentlemen were admitted to the palace ; and till 
the hour of supper came, were conducted to their private apart- 
ments. At length the sonorous trumpets announced the ap- 
proaching banquet : the visiters were ushered into the magnificent 
hall; and whilst the tables were served, ^^ such a concert of music 
was prepared^ that the Frenchmen seemed rapt in a heavenly 
paradise." It was not till the end of the second course, that 
the cardinal entered, booted and spurred, exclaiming " Proface ! 
Prof ace 1"^ and with this general salutation gayly welcomed his 
delighted guests. 

In describing the devices of the dishes. Cavendish happily ex- 
emplifies the elegant urbanity of Wolsey's manners : — " Among 
all, I noted a chess-borde made with spice-plate, with men there- 
of to the same. And for the good proportion, and because the 
Frenchmen were very cunninge and expert in that play, ^my 

* Much good may do you. 



200 THE KING'S TREAT. 

Lord Cardinall gave the same to a gentleman of France, com- 
mending tliere a goodly care for the preservation thereof, in all 
haste, that he might convey the same safe into his own country. 
Then toke my Lord a howle of gold filled with hippocras, and 
putting off his cappe, said, I drink to the King, my sovereign 
lorde, and next, to the King your master.'^ 

According to Cavendish, the King's treat, which was given 
at Greenwich,* surpassed that of Hampton Court, as gold doth 

* Nothing can better illustrate the habits and manners of that age 
than comparative sketches of their various magnificent entertainments. 
To the French ambassador who arrived in England in the preceding 
May, with the Vicomte de Turenne, Henry had provided a gala at 
Greenwich, which is circumstantially described by Holinshed. "After 
tilting in the morning, the company repaired to a banquetting-room, 
a hundred feet in length, which had been prepared for their reception. 
Under a roof of purple cloth blazed myriads of wax tapers ; the walls 
were hung with tapestry, and three cupboards of plate ; and the whole 
supper was served up in vessels of gold. To rehearse the fare, the 
strangeness of dishes with devices of beasts and fowls, it were too long ; 
wherefore I will let pass over the supper, with songs, and minstrelsy. 
The supper was done ; the King, the Queen, and the ambassadors 
washed, and after talked at their pleasure ; and then they rose, and 
passed by a long gallery into another chamber." — After a very elabo- 
rate, though somewhat unintelligible description of this apartment, the 
chronicler adds, " the roof of this chamber was cunningly made by the 
King's astronomer : on the ground of the roof was made the whole 
Earth, environed with the sea, like a map or chart, and by a cunning 
making of another cloth the zodiac with the twelve signs, and five 
circles or girdles, and the two poles appeared on the earth, and water 
compassing the same ; andin the zodiac were the twelve signs curiously 
made, and above this were made seven planets, as Mars, Jupiter, Sol, 
Mercurius, Venus, Saturnus, and Luna, every one in their proper houses, 



THE KING'S TREAT. 201 

exceed silver; ^^ and/' lie adds, " for my parte, I never saw, Learde, 
or reade of the like. After turning at the barrier, there was a 
goodly enterlude in Latin,* this done, there came a number of 
the fairest ladies and gentlewomen that bore any bruit of beauty 
in all the realme, in most richest apparel that their tailors could 
invent or devise, to set forth their gesture, proportion, and 
beauty, that they seemed to all men to be rather celestial angels 
descended from heaven, than creatures of flesh and bone ; with 
whom these gentlemen of France danced, until a gorgeous 
masque came in, of noble gentlemen, who danced and masked 
with these ladies, every man as his fantasy served him : that 
done, and the masquers departed, came in another masque of 
ladies, so costly and gorgeously apparelled, that it passeth my 
wit to manifest and declare ; wherefore, lest I should rather 
deface their riches, I leave it untouched. These lady maskers 
took each of them one of the Frenchmen to dance, and to mask. 
Ye shall understand that these noblewomen maskers spake good 

made according to their properties, that it was a cunning thing and a 
pleasant sight to behold." The diversions of the evening commenced 
with a solemn Latin oration, commemorating the peace, the liberation 
of the French King, and the wisdom of Cardinal Wolsey : to this suc- 
ceeded a masque, in which the Princess Mary, though only ten years 
of age, sustained a part. The whole concluded with dancing ; and in 
the sequel the Queen plucked off the visor from the King's face, and 
her example was followed by the other ladies. 

* We learn from Holinshed, that the main subject of this Latin com- 
position was the Pope's captivity. St. Peter appeared to the cardinal, 
authorizing him to deliver the head of the church from bondage. The 
sons of Francis were introduced, soliciting the cardinal to intercede 
for their liberty, which finally was by his means obtained. "At this 
play, wise men smiled, and thought it sounded more glorious to the 
cardinal than the matter in dede." 



202 GARDINER. 

Frencli unto the Frenclimen^ which delighted them very much 
to heard these ladies speak to them in their own tongue. Thus 
was this night occupied and consumed, from five of the clock 
until two or three of the clock after midnight ; at which time, 
it was convenient for all estates to draw to their lodgings, and to 
take their rest ; and thus every man departed whereas they had 
most reliefe.'^ 

Two days after this brilliant night, the principal members of 
the embassy were dismissed with rich presents. A more accept- 
able messenger shortly after arrived from Rome in the Almoner 
Fox, whom G-ardiner had despatched with the ultimatum of 
Clement's deliberations. Alternately intimidated by the Em- 
peror and the cardinals, the Pope professed his inability to refuse 
Catherine the privilege of appealing from the judgment of an 
arbitrary court : and complained, with bitter tears, that he was 
placed between the hammer and the forge.* To evince, how- 
ever, his willingness to promote the King's wishes, he commis« 
sioned Wolsey and Cardinal Campeggio to hear and judge the 
cause in England, in a court convened by legatine authority. 
Such was the result of Grardiner's laborious mission, and such 
the terms conceded to one of the most potent sovereigns in 
Europe. On any other occasion Henry would have spurned 
conditions so inimical to his royal dignity; but now so com- 
pletely was his pride subjected to a stronger passion, that he not 
only listened to the alternative without repugnance, but em- 
braced it with rapture, and in the first transports of his joy des- 
patched the envoy from Greenwich to Westminster, to which he 
was himself going in a few hours, that not a single moment 

■^ See Godwin's History of Henry the Eighth. Burnet's History of 
the Reformation. 



LETTER TO WOLSEY. 20^ 

^>, 
might be lost in transmitting to Anne Boleyn the welcome 

tidings. From the lady, Fox experienced a still more cordial 
reception ; but attributing her happiness to the good offices of 
Gardiner, at that time distinguished by the appellation of Dr. 
Stevens, she thought of him alone, and repeatedly addressed and 
thanked the messenger in the name of his employer. Before 
she had suspended her inquiries or her acknowledgments, Henry 
himself entered ; when Anne, recollecting her peculiar situation, 
with a modest sense of propriety that must have endeared her 
to the enamoured monarch, withdrew from the apartment.* 

Whether her advisers suggested doubts which allayed her 
satisfaction, or whether Henry, on reflection, became more diffi- 
dent of the Pope's ultimate intentions, they both applied to Wol- 
sey to quicken the legate's movements, endeavouring to secure 
his diligence and fidelity, by unlimited professions of gratitude 
and confidence. The following joint epistle is evidently dictated 
by anxiety, not quite unmixed with distrust : — 

To Wolsei/. 
" My Lord ; 
" In my most humble wise that my heart can think, I desire 
you to pardon me, that I am so bold to trouble you with my 
simple and rude writing, esteeming it to proceed from her that 
is much desirous to learn that your Grace doeth well, as I per- 
ceive by this bearer that you do, the which T pray God long to 
continue, as I am most bound to pray ; for I do know the great 
pains and trouble that you have taken for me, botli day and 
night* is never likely to be recompensed on my part, but alone 
in loving you, next to the King's Grace, above all creatures 

* Burnet. Strype. 



204 HENRY'S POSTSCRIPT. 

living } and I do not doubt that the daily proofs of my deeds 
will manifest; declare^ and affirm my writing to be true, and I 
do trust you do think the same. My Lord, I' do assure you, I 
do long to hear from you news of the Legate ; for I hope an 
they come from you they shall be very good, and I am sure you 
desire it as much as I do, and more if it were possible, as I 
know it is not ; and thus remaining in a stedfast hope, I make 
an end of my letter, written with the hand of her that is most 
bound to be — '' 

To this Henry subjoined the following postscript. 

" The writer of this letter would not cease till she had caused 
me likewise to set to my hand, desiring you, though it be short, 
to take it in good part. I assure you there is neither of us but 
that greatly desires to see you, and much more joyous to hear 
that you have escaped this plague so well, trusting the fury 
thereof to be past, especially to him that keepeth good diet, as I 
trust you do. The not hearing of the Legate arriving in France 
causes us somewhat to muse ; notwithstanding, we trust, by your 
diligence and vigilancy, with the assistance of Almighty Grod, 
shortly to be eased out of that trouble. No more to you at this 
time, but that I pray God send you good health and prosperity, 
as the writer would. 

^' By your loving sovereign and friend, 

^^H. E. 
" Your humble servant, 

^^Anne Boleyn.'^* 

The nomination of Cardinal Campeggio, a man who had reached 
his climacteric, and was often confined by gout to his chamber, 
might with reason excite suspicions of Clement's sincerity ; and 

* Burnet. 



HENRY'S DUPLICITY. 205 

it appears from the Bishop of Bayonne, Cardinal du Bellai,* 
then residing in England, that he was chosen by the connivance 
or suggestion of Wolsey, partly to afford a convenient pretext for 
protracting the negotiation. Whether this adroit management 
was detected by Henry or not, it certainly escaped not the pene- 
tration of Sir Thomas Boleyn, who retained spies and sentinels in 
every corner of France, Italy, and Germany ; and it was probably 
owing to his vigilance that Anne entered into a correspondence 
with Gardiner, which, though concealed from Wolsey, was well 
known by Henry, who was hence enabled to form a correct esti- 
mate of his minister's diligence and sincerity. 

Whatever suspicions to the prejudice of Wolsey might be 
created in the King's breast, he was cautious to conceal them 
from Anne, whose unguarded openness of temper, although it 
probably formed her peculiar charm to his dark, designing 
nature, was obviously ill calculated to participate in the 
mysteries of political intrigue. To himself duplicity was now 
become habitual. Originally compelled by wayward circum- 
stances to disguise his sentiments, he had condescended to arti- 
fice and evasion, till it almost constituted a secret and appro- 
priate source of enjoyment. It was during the process of the 
divorce that this dark shade of obliquity in his character became 
fixed and permanent : accustomed to the unbounded indulgence 
of an imperious will, he could ill brook the necessity of submit- 
ting to privation or restraint ; and having discharged from his 
mind even that latent sense of moral obligation which hitherto 
had partially checked the violence of his passions, he scrupled 

* The l3rother to the histoi-ian. He appears to have been a man of 
the most amiable manners ; and during his residence in England en- 
deared himself to the King, the court, and even the people. 

18 



206 HENRY'S SCRUPLES. 

not to employ the most elaborate dissimulation to insure their 
accomplishment. Other vices debase mankind : it is by hypo- 
crisy alone^ that the moral sympathies are utterly perverted, and 
even the original features of humanity effaced. It was during 
the vexations and entanglements incident to the process of the 
divorce, that Henry gradually developed those germs of cruelty, 
which were hereafter to inspire terror and abhorrence. 

It is impossible to hear, without disgust, the pretended 
scruples with which the King attempted to disguise the real mo- 
tives that impelled him to separate from Catherine. To the 
bishops he talked of conscience ; to the nobility, of the succes- 
sion ; whilst, to complete the mockery, he affected to lament the 
necessity that estranged him from the Princess, so long and so 
deservedly beloved. Although the Queen could scarcely have 
been the dupe of such professions, she affected to pity his delu- 
sion, and to hope that the holy men, from whom he sought 
relief, might restore j)eace to his wounded mind. For herself, 
she continued to avow her unalterable conviction that her mar- 
riage was true and lawful, since it had been sanctioned by 
a papal bull of dispensation; thus resting on a mere theo- 
logical quiUble the merits of a cause, which ought to have 
been sustained by the immutable principles of right and justice. 
At this moment the interior of the court of England presented 
a perpetual system of disguises and deceptions, infinitely more 
artificial and imj)osing than the masques and mummeries from 
time to time presented to the people. It was remarked that 
Anne always approached Catherine with respect, and that Cathe- 
rine treated Anne with unusual complacency.* The King and 

* See tlie Letters of Cardinal dti Bellai appended to Le Grand ; and 
Cavendish, who states that Catherine treated Mrs. Anne Boleyn with 



CATHERINE'S POPULARITY. 207 

the Queen continued apparently to live in perfect harmony, oc- 
cupying the same apartment, and dining at the same table ; but 
it was observed, that whilst the former looked melancholy, the 
latter seemed unusually cheerful ; and utterly to discountenance 
an idea privately suggested at Rome, that she should retire to a 
convent, she adopted a gayer style of dress, encouraged music 
and dancing, and joined with alacrity in those pleasures she had 
formerly censured or rejected. Nor was this the only altera- 
tion remarked in Catherine's deportment : discarding her wonted 
habits of reserve, she went voluntarily into public, evidently 
seeking, by gracious smiles and salutations, to ingratiate herself 
with the people. The effort was repaid with success ; the ap- 
proaching arrival of the legate was distasteful to the citizens, 
already displeased by the interruption of their commerce with 
Flanders, and now seriously alarmed with denunciations of hos- 
tility from Austria. If these commercial considerations ope- 
rated with one sex against the divorce, the more generous feelings 
of pity and sympathy were no less imperative on the other ; and, 
to their honour, the women were notoriously the warm and dis- 
interested advocates of Catherine's cause.* "VYithout entering 
into theological quibbles or political speculations, they con- 
demned, as cruel, a measure which, however disguised by sophistry 
and hypocrisy, was in reality only brought forward to gratify the 
inclinations of one party at the expense of the other; and, for 
a time, such was the enthusiasm inspired by their influence, that 

the most marked distinction. Wiatt (see the Life of Queen Anne Bolen) 
maintains that xVnne always testified profound respect for her mis- 
tress. 

* Hall. Herbert. Godwin. 



208 THE SWEATING SICKNESS. 

the people protested^ with honest vehemence^ whoever married 
the Princess Mary should he their lawful sovereign.* 

During this season of perplexity and distraction^ Henry's ill 
humour exploded in fury against Wolsey; who was so far inti- 
midated^ as to write to the Pope^ beseeching him to despatch 
the legate without further delay. At length Campeggio com- 
menced his journey; but scarcely had Henry hailed these good 
tidingSj when the sweating-sickness became epidemic^ and the 
consequent alarm of infection spread gloom and terror through 
the court. Anne Boleyn precipitately retreated to a village near 
Lambeth, whilst the King and Queen, and their attendants, 
migrated from place to place ; and such was the panic created 
by this awful malady, that, like the physician, the confessor and 
the lawyer were constantly in requisition. Henry made his 
will, prayed, and fasted with Catherine, and was supposed to be 
estranged from Anne, when, in reality, as appears by his letters, 
she engrossed his thoughts, and was more than ever the object 
of his tenderness."!" In one of these letters, he says, — "As 
touching your abode at Hever, you know what aire doth best 

* See tlie Letters appended to Le Grand's Histoire du Divorce ; also 
Lord Herbert and Holinshed. 

I " The uneasiness, mj doubts about your health gave me, disturbed 
and frightened me extremely, and I should not have had any quiet 
without hearing a certain account. But now, since you have yet felt 
nothing, I hope it is with you as with us; for, when we were at AValton, 
two ushers, two valets de chambre, and your brother, master-treasurer, 
fell ill, and are now quite well ; and since we are returned to your house 
at Hondson,^ we have been perfectly well, God be praised, and have 
not, at present, one sick person in the family ; and, I think, if you 
would retire from the Surrey side, as we did, you would escape all 
danger. There is another thing that may comfort you, which is, that 

a In Essex, purchased, in 1512, of Sir Thomas Boleyn. 



SIR WILLIAM CAREY. 209 

suit you j but I would it were come to that thereto, if it please 
God, that neither of us need care for that ; for I assure you I 
think it long/' Among other victims of the sweating-sickness 
was Sir William Carey, the husband of Mary Boleyn, in whose 
behalf Anne appears to have made a request to Henry, to which 
he thus supplies : — ^^ With regard to your sister's matter, I have 
caused Walter Welche to write to my Lord your father my mind 
thereon, whereby I trust that Eve shall not have, power to deceive 
Adam ; for surely whatsoever is said, it cannot so stand with his 
honour, but that he must needs take her, his natural daughter, 
now in her extreme necessity/"^ From the cant of piety in 
some of the letters written at this period, it is evident that 
Henry had not entirely overcome his dread of infection; but 
although he had himself the good fortune to escape the malady, 
he was suddenly alarmed for the safety of Anne, who expe- 
rienced an attack comparatively mild, but which called forth his 
most tender solicitude.f 

in trutb. this distemper few or no women have been taken ill ; and, be- 
sides, no person of oui' court, and few elsewhere have died of it. For 
' which reasons I beg you, my entirely beloved, not to frighten yourself, 
nor to be too uneasy at our absence : for wherever I am, I am yours, 
and yet we must sometimes submit to our misfortunes, for, whoever 
will struggle against fate, is generally but so much the farther from 
gaining his end ; wherefore, comfort yourself, and take courage, and 
make this misfortune as easy to you as you can, and I hope shortly to 
make you sing for joy of your recall. No more at present for lack of 
time, but that I wish you in my arms, that I might a little dispel your 
unreasonable thoughts." — See Ilarleian Miscellany. 

* From this passage it appears, contrary to Sanders, that there was 
no estrangement between the sisters. 

f His feelings are forcibly expressed in the following letter: — 
18 * 



210 ANNE'S RETURN. 

Anne soon recovered sufficiently to return to court^ where her 
presence diffused such evident satisfaction^ that those who had 
lately predicted the estrangement of the King's affections, were 
convinced her empire was more confirmed than ever; and Car- 
dinal du Bellai* confessed, that by nothing short of a miracle 
was Henry to he cured of his passion. At this crisis distraction 
appears to have prevailed in Wolsey's councils, who vented his 
secret chagrin in execrations on the emperor, and even seriously 

II There came to me at night the most afflicting news possible : for 
I have reason to grieve upon three accounts ; first, because I heard of 
the sickness of my mistress, whom I esteem more than all the world, 
whose health I desire as much as my own, and the half of whose sick- 
ness I would willingly bear to have her cured ; secondly, because I 
fear I shall suffer yet longer that tedious absence which has hitherto 
given me all possible uneasiness, and as far as I can judge, is like to 
give me more. I pray God he would deliver me from so troublesome a 
tormentor. The third reason is, because the physician, in whom I 
trust most, is absent at present, when he could do me the greatest 
pleasure. For I should hope, by him and his means, to obtain one of 
my principal joys in this world, that is, my mistress cured ; however, 
in default of him, I send you the second, and the only one left, pray- 
ing God that he may soon make you well, and then I shall love him 
more than ever. I beseech you to be governed by his advices with re- 
lation to your illness ; by your doing which I hope shortly to see you 
again, which will be to me a greater cordial than all the precious 
stones in the world. Written by the secretary, who is and always 

will be, 

"Your loyal, 

" And most assured servant, 

"H. R." 

See Harleian Miscellany. 

■^ See his Letters in the third volume of Le Grand's Histoire du Di- 
vorce d' Henri et Catherine. 



I 



DISCONTENT OF THE PEOPLE. 211 

proposed his deposition in a general council, declaring, that by 
his sacrilegious treatment of the Pope, he had forfeited his rights 
to the crown of Ca3sar. The discontents of the people, irritated 
by restrictions on commerce, and the imposition of new taxes, 
broke forth in murmurs against the divorce, and the minister to 
whose fatal influence it was most unjustly attributed. A dispo- 
sition to insurrection manifested itself in the North ; and whilst 
it was pretended that Lord Rochford was to be created Duke of 
Somerset (a title already appropriated to Henry's natural son), 
a thousand injurious calumnies were circulated by the Catholics 
against his daughter. Of these murmurs Henry is said to have 
been apprised by Lord Rochford, who, with consummate pru- 
dence, advised him to dismiss Anne from court, and to take some 
decisive step to appease the clamours of the people.* Little as 
Henry could have relished the proposal, he adopted it with 
ardour; and whether his precipitation wounded the pride, or 
mortified the hopes of Anne Boleyn, she left the court by his 

* Loyd ascribes the temporary separation of Henry and Anne ex- 
clusively to the suggestions of Sir Thomas Boleyn ; but these were un- 
questionably enforced by other counsellors. That it should have 
originated with Anne's father, is, however, perfectly in unison with 
his wary, cautious, penetrating character. Nothing could have been 
better devised to defeat the malice of his daughter's enemies, or to 
inspire confidence in his own upright principles, and disinterested con- 
duct. It is also probable that he might dread the consequences of 
Anne's indiscretion or impetuosity. The occasion of her dismission is 
stated by Sanders, with his usual disingenuousness and malignity. 
He pretends that Cardinal Wolsey was the King's adviser (a very im- 
probable supposition, if we consider the delicate position of Wolsey 
with Anne Boleyn), and that Anne, exasperated by this new proof of 
his power, renewed her vows of eternal vengeance against him. 



212 POSITION OF HENRY. 

express orderS; with painful impressicns of distrust; not unmin- 
gled with resentment. 

At this moment no situation could he less enviable : whether 
she believed that the crisis of her fate approached^ or whether 
she anticipated a repetition of those conflicts and chagrins in- 
separable from a state of suspense and probation^ she had but 
too much reason to fear the publicity of the King's passion left 
her no medium between supreme greatness and ignominious de- 
gradation. At the commencement of the process for divorce, 
neither she nor Henry could have looked for the impediments 
that continued to retard its progress.* It had more than once 
been suggested by Clement, that the celebration of the marriage 
might precede the dispensation to be hereafter granted : with 
whatever view this promise was made, it was now but too proba- 
ble that the Pope meant to evade its performance ; and it was 
obviously his policy, by protracting the cause, to exhaust the 
King's patience. If Henry persisted, Anne, like another 
Elizabeth Woodville, might have to witness the alienation of 
his subjects, and to incur the reproach of having destroyed his 
peace and prosperity. But was it credible that he should per- 
severe in an object which could only be effected by a formal 
renunciation of the Roman see ? Not even the obstinacy of his 
temper assured her he should withstand the test. If he relin- 

■^ AccorcliBg to Lord Herbert and some other historians, the draft 
of a bull was actually found among the state-papers, dated Orvieto, 
1527, not only authorizing Henry to contract marriage with any woman 
(not being his brother's widow), but even guarantying the legality of 
such marriage, although contracted without a formal dispensation ; 
this bull appears to have been rejected by Gardiner on some suspicion 
of informality. 



HENRY'S LETTERS TO ANNE. 213 

qiiislied the pursuit, he would still he a monarch equally great 
aud beloved ; whilst the envied Anne Boleyn would have no 
alternative hut to withdraw for ever from that world in which 
she had only to look for obloquy and contempt. In this con- 
stant agitation of her spirits, it was impossible but that by some 
unguarded expressions she should betray to Henry her doubts of 
Clement, or her suspicions of Wolsey ; and from the tenour of 
his correspondence, it is evident that something like recrimi- 
nation occasionally passed between them.* In one of his letters, 
the King tells his mistress that he takes pleasure in attending 
to her reasonable requests.f To do him justice, however, he 
appears to have transmitted daily and almost hourly intelligence 
of Campeggio's approach. The following letter is in a strain of 
unwonted complacency : — 

To Anne Boleyn. 
'''■ The approach of the time which I have so long expected 
rejoices me so much, that it seems almost ready come. How- 

* "Although, my mistress, you have not been pleased to remember 
the promise which you made me when I was last -with you, which was, 
that I should hear news of you, and have an answer to my last letter ; 
yet I think it belongs to a true servant (since otherwise he can know 
nothing) to send to inqiiire of his mistress's health ; and for to acquit 
myself of the office of a true servant, I send you this letter, begging 
you to give me an account of the state 3'ou are in, which I pray God 
may continue as long in prosperity as I wish my own." 

f "The reasonable request of your last letter, with the pleasure I 
also take to know them, causes me to send you now this news. The 
legate, which we most desire, arrived at Paris on Sunday or Monday 
last past ; so that I trust, by the next Monday, to hear of his arrival at 
Calais : and then, I trust, within a while after, to enjoy that which I 
have so long longed for, to God's pleasure, and our both comforts." 



214 HENRY'S LETTERS TO ANNE. 

ever the intire accomplisliment cannot be till the two persons 
meet^ which meeting is more desired by me than anything in this 
world; for what joy can be greater upon earth than to have the 
company of her who is my dearest friend ? Knowing likewise 
that she does the same on her part, the thinking on which gives 
great pleasure. You may judge what an effect the presence of M 
that person must have on me, whose absence has made a greater 
wound in my heart than either words or writing can express, and ^| 
which nothifig can cure but her return. I beg you, dear mis- 
tress, to tell your father, from me, that I desire him to hasten 
the appointment by two days, that he may be in court before 
the old terms, or at farthest on the day prefixed, for otherwise I 
shall think he will not do the lover's turn, as he said he would, 
not answer my expectation. No more at present, for want of 
time, hoping shortly that by word of mouth I shall tell you the 
rest of my sufferings from your absence." 

In one billet he is evidently desirous to soothe her impatience ; 
and in the next complains that the contents of his last had trans- 
pired ; upon which he sapiently observes, " that lack of discreet 
handling must be the cause thereof.''* 

* (Original.) 
" Darling; 
" I heartily recommend me to yon, ascertaining you that I am a little 
perplexed with such things as your brother shall on my part declare 
unto you, to whom I pray you will give full credit, for it were too long 
to write. In my last letters, I writ to you, that I trusted shortly to see 
you, which is better known at London than any that is about me, 
whereof I not a little marvel, but lack of discreet handling must needs 
be the cause thereof. No more to you at this time, but that I trust 
shortly our meeting shall not depend upon other men's light handling, 
but upon your own. Writ with the hand of him that longs to be yours." 



HENRY'S LETTERS TO ANNE. 215 

That her return to court was the object of his unceasing soli- 
citude, appears from another letter, in which he says, "As 
touching a lodging for you, we have gotten one by my Lord 
Cardinal's means, the like whereof could not have been found 
hereabouts, for all causes, as this bearer shall show you."* 

Among other mortifications incident to her situation, Anne 
could not but be sensible that the lover was also the sovereign. 
The following letter commences with a very equivocal, if not 
sarcastic compliment : — 

"To inform you what joy it is to me to understand of your 
conformableness with reason, and of the suppressing of your 
imitile and vain thoughts 2iTi^ fantasies with the bridle of reason j 
I assure you all the goodness of this world could not counter- 
poise for my satisfaction in the knowledge and certainty thereof; 
therefore, good sweetheart, continue the same, not only in this 
but in all your doings hereafter ; for thereby shall come, both 
to you and me, the greatest quietness that may be in this world." 
After this he resumes the subject of her future residence, in the 
style of one who is conscious that he has conferred an especial 
favour, obviously with a determination to vindicate the honour 
of Campeggio.f 

"■ This was called Suffolk House, having been formerly occupied by 
the Duke of Suffolk. On its site was afterwards erected Northumber- 
land House. It has been pretended by Sanders, that this mansion was 
a peace-offering to Anne Boleyn from Henry ; from the correspondence, 
however, nothing transpires to verify this assertion : even if, as Lord 
Herbert states, she kept the King at a distance on her return to court, 
she showed, in this, not only pride but prudence, and may be supposed 
to have followed her father's counsels. It should be observed that 
there was another Suffolk House in Southwark, which was also occupied 
by Cliarlcs Brandon. 

f " The cause wliy this bearer stays so lo)ig is the gcer I have had 



216 CARDINAL CAMPEGGIO. 

The general character of this cardinal was such as justified 
the eulogium. Like many of the more respectable prelates iiAj 
that age, he had married in his youth, on his wife's death taken 
orderS; and gradually risen to distinction by sound learning and 
strict attachment to Catholic principles. To the English court 
he was no stranger, having ten years before been associated with 
Wolsey in visiting and dissolving those monasteries, on whose 
ruin was erected Cardinal College. In his cold, reserved 
manners, he was strikingly contrasted with his colleague, in 
whose taste for splendour he so little participated, that he 
shunned occasions of pomp and exhibition, preferring to all other 
privileges the indulgence of ease and privacy. "Without one 
brilliant talent, he had acquired a high reputation, founded on 
gravity and discretion, and an inflexible observance of ecclesias- 
tical formalities, however tedious or unimportant. At his first 
public interview with the King, he dilated, in a Latin oration, 
on the injuries which the Pope and his subjects had sustained 
from the Lnperial party. To this subject Henry was prepared 
to listen with respectful commiseration; but when, at their pri- 
vate conference, the legate, pro formdj exhorted him to drop 

to dress up for you, wMcli I trust ere long to see you occupy, and then 
I trust to occupy yours, -wMcli shall be recompense enough to me for 
all my pains and labour. The unfeigned sickness of this well-willing 
legate doth somewhat retard this access to your person, but I trust, 
verily, when God shall send him health, he will with diligence recom- 
pense his demur ; for I know well where he hath said (fomenting the 
saying and bruit noise), that he shall be thought imperial, that it shall 
be well known in this matter that he is not imperial: and this for 
lack of time. Farewell." 

Imperial was the term applied to the partisans of Charles the Fifth, 
and his aunt Catherine. 



HIS NEGOTIATIONS. 217 

the suit which he had come to England expressly to commence, 
the monarch's patience began to flag ; and nothing hut the per- 
suasion that Campeggio was actually in possession of the decretal 
bull so long solicited; and that it was in due time to be produced, 
could have reconciled him to a mockery at once so palpable and 
tantalizing. Campeggio's next visit was to Catherine, whom he 
advised with equal earnestness, and, perhaps, more sincerity, to 
embrace a religious life; but even the self-denying Queen rejected 
the proposal in a manner that showed how little she relished his 
interference ; protesting that she was Henry's lawful wife, and, 
consequently, had no right to withdraw from her husband's 
protection. 

Having paid the proper tribute to decorum, the punctilious 
legate, in conjunction with Wolsey, entered upon an elaborate 
investigation of the evidence in favour of the divorce ', but his 
diligence was checked by frequent returns of indisposition, and 
by the rumour of the Pope's death. At this intelligence the 
cardinal's hopes revived, and, in an ecstasy of enthusiasm, he sent 
to Gardiner to secure his election to the papacy ; and as both. 
Francis and Henry* had cogent motives for seconding his pre- 

* That Henry had participated in Wolsey's hopes, is evident, from 
the following letter addressed to Anne Boleyn, in which he refers to 
the mission of Fox to Gardiner, to secure the cardinal's election : — 
" Darling ; 

" This shall be only to advertise you, that this bearer, and his fellow, 
be despatched with as many things to compass matters, and to bring it 
to pass, as our wits could manage or devise; which brought to pass, 
as I trust by their diligence it shall be shortly, you and I shall have 
our desired end; which shall be more to my heart's ease, and more 
quietness to my mind, than any other thing in this world, as by God's 
grace stcdfastly I trust shall be proved, but not so soon as I would it 
19 



218 THE CONSISTORIAL COURT. 

tensions, letters were written, messengers despatched, largesses 
promised and anticipated; when, alas I it was discovered, that 
the Pope had revived, and Wolsey saw his sun of glory sink for 
ever ! 

At length, Campeggio having exhausted every possible pretext 
for delay, the consistorial court was opened,* when, says God- 
win, " such a scene was exhibited as had never before been pre- 
sented to the astonished world. A puissant monarch cited by 
the voice of an apparitor, made his appearance before the 
judges." It would be unnecessary to revert to this scene, which 
Shakspeare had rendered familiar to every English reader, but 
that it has been described by an eye-witness, with a felicity and 
spirit almost unequalled in any prose narration.*}* 

" There were many tables and benches set in manner of a con- 
sistory, one seat being higher than another for the judges aloft ; 
above them, three degrees high, was a cloth of estate hanged, 
and a chair royal under the same, wherein sat the King and 
some distance off sat the Queen, and at the judges^ feet sat the 
scribes and officers for the execution of the process. The chief 
scribe was Dr. Stevens, J after Bishop of Winchester; and the 
apparitor, who was called Doctor of the Court, was one Cooke, 

were ; yet I will assure you there shall be no time lost that may be 
won, and further cannot be done, for ultra posse non est esse. Keep him 
not too long with you, but desire him, for your sake, to make the more 
speed ; for the sooner we shall have word for him, the sooner shall ouj? 
matter come to pass; and thus, upon trust to your short repair to 
London, I make an end of my letter; mine own sweetheart. Written 
with the hand of him that desires as much to be yours." 

* In the palace of Bridewell. 

f Cavendish's Life of Wolsey. 

X Gardiner. 



THE CONSISTORIAL COURT. 219 

of Westminster. Then, before the King and the judges, sat 
the Archbishop of Canterbury, Doctor Warham, and all other 
bishops ; there stood, at both ends within, counsellors learned 
in the spiritual laws, as well on the King's side as the Queen's 
side, — Dr. Sampson, afterwards Bishop of Chichester, and Dr. 
Hall, after Bishop of Worcester, with divers others ; and proc- 
tors in the same law were Dr. Peter, who was afterwards chief 
secretary, and Dr. Tregunwell, with divers others. 

"Now, on the other side, there were council for the Queen, 
Dr. Fisher, Bishop of Eochester, and Dr. Standish, Bishop of 
St. Asaph, in Wales, two brave noble divines ; especially the 
Bishop of Rochester, a very godly man; whose death many 
noblemen and many worthy divines much lamented, who lost 
his head about this cause, before it was ended, upon Tower Hill : 
as also another ancient doctor, called Dr. Ridley, a little man, 
but a great divine. The court being thus ordered, as is before 
expressed, the judges commanded the cryer to proclaim silence, 
whilst the commission was both read to the court and to the 
people there assembled : that done, and silence being again pro- 
claimed, the scribes commanded the cryer to call King Henry 
of England ; whereunto the King answered, and said, ^ Here :' 
then called he again the Queen of England, by the name of 
' Catherine, Queen of England, come into the court,' &c., who 
made no answer thereunto, but rose immediately out of her 
chair where she sat ; and, because she could not come to the 
King directly, by reason of the distance, therefore she came 
round about the court to the King, and kneeled down at his 
feet, saying these words in broken English, as followeth : — 

" ' Sir,' quoth she, ^ I beseech you do me justice and right, 
and take some pity upon me, for I am a poor woman and a stran- 



220 PATHETIC APPEAL OF CATHERINE. 

gei; born out of your dominions^ having here no indifferent 
council; and less assurance of friendship. Alas ! Sir^ how have 
I offended you ? What offence have I given you, intending to 
abridge me of life in this sort ? I take Grod to witness, I have 
been to you a true and loyal wife, ever conformable to your will 
and pleasure ; never did I contrary or gainsay your mind, but 
always submitted myself in all things, wherein you had any 
delight or dalliance, whether it were little or much, without 
grudging or any sign of discontent. I have loved, for your 
sake, all men whom you have loved, whether I had cause or not, 
were they friends or foes. I have been your wife this twenty 
years. If there be any cause that you can allege, either of 
dishonesty, or of any other matter, lawful to put me from you, I 
am willing to depart with shame and rebuke ; but if there be 
none, then I pray you to let me have justice at your hands. 

" ' The King, your father, was a man of such an excellent wit 
in his time, that he was recounted a second Solomon ; and the 
King of Spain, my father, Ferdinand, was taken for one of the 
wisest kings that reigned in Spain these many years. So they 
were both wise men and noble princes ; and it is no question but 
they had wise counsellors of either realm, as be now at this day, 
who thought not, at the marriage of you and me, to hear what 
new devices are now invented against me, to cause me to stand 
to the order of this court. And I conceive you do me much 
wrong, nay you condemn me for not answering, having no coun- 
sel but such as you have assigned me : you must consider that 
they cannot be indifferent on my part, being your own subjects, 
and such as you have made choice of out of your own council, 
whereunto they a-re privy, and dare not disclose your pleasure. 

"^Therefore, I most humbly beseech you to spare me, until I 



SHE DENIES THE JURISDICTION. 221 

know how my friends in Spain will advise me ; but if you will 
not, then let your pleasure be done/ 

" And with that she rose, making a curtesy to the King, and 
departed from thence, all the people thinking she would have 
returned again to her former seat ; but she went presently out 
of the court, leaning upon the arm of one of her servants, who 
was her general receiver, one Mr. G-riffith. 

^^ The King, seeing that she was ready to go out of the court, 
commanded the cryer to call her again by these words, — ^ Cathe- 
rine, Queen of England, come into court.' — ^Lo,' quoth Mr. 
Griffith, ^you are called again/ — ^Go on,' quoth she, ^it is no 
matter : it is no indifferent court for me, therefore I will not 
tarry ; go on 3'^our way :' and so she departed, without any fur- 
ther answer at that time, or any appearance in any other court.'' 



10 



CHAPTER VII. 

WOLSEY^S DISGRACE. — ANNE's CORONATION. 

Edicts — The Court — Catherine's Firmness — Campeggio's Decision — 
Henry's Kage — Wolsey's Disgrace — His Deceit exposed — Effects of 
the Verdict — The Lutherans — Cranmer summoned to Court — Wolsey's 
Enemies — His Reception by the King — Perplexity of Anne — Her 
Influence — Fall of Wolsey — His Eetirement — His Final Dismission — 
His Catholicism — His Successors — Gardiner — Cromwel — More — 
Cranmer — State of Morals — Luther's opinion — The Universities — The 
Clergy and Parliament — Satisfaction of the People — The Reformers 
encouraged — Remonstrance — Death of Wolsey — Dismissal of Cathe- 
rine — Embarrassment of Henry — Cranmer's Instructions — Inter- 
course of Henry and Anne — Domestic Habits of Henry — Cardinal du 
Bellai's Letter — Anne's Occupations — Grand Ceremonial — Anne 
created a Marchioness — A Feast — Progress to France — Meeting of 
Henry and Francis I. — Hawking Party — Dances — Marriage of Anne 
— Her Coronation — The Earl and Countess of Wiltshire. 

During Cardinal Campeggio's residence in England, tlie 
fluctuations of Henry's mind were indicated by the perpetual 
inconsistency and vacillation of his conduct. It has been already 
related that, previous to the legate's arrival, Anne was dis- 
missed from court ', and to give more efficacy to the sacrifice of 
his inclinations, Henry convened to his palace at Bridewell an 
assembly of bishops, peers, lawyers, and commoners, to whom 
he detailed the rise and progress of his pious fears ; solemnly 
declaring, that, could his conscience be quieted, his affections 
would again elect his present Queen, in preference to the fairest 



EDICTS. 223 

and worthiest of her sex. Whatever credit might have been 
given to these professions was destroyed by the impatience with 
which, in three months, he not only recalled Anne to London, 
but established her in Suffolk House, where, surrounded by her 
nearest relatives, she was assiduously visited by his ministers 
and courtiers as their future queen. 

To the irritable state of Henry's feelings, might, perhaps, in 
part, be attributed the promulgation of several additional edicts 
to the statutes of Eltham,* in which he requires from his ser- 
vants not merely unconditional submission, but mute and hlind 
devotion to his royal pleasure. f That some suspicion was 
mingled with this irritation, may be gathered from another 
proclamation, by which all members of the Lower House are 
enjoined to repair to their respective counties, on pain of his heavy 
displeasure. There were two causes for the King's perplexity ; 
he was estranged from his old confidants, and distrustful of his 

* " That oflBcers of the privy chamber shall be loving together, 
keeping secret every thing said or done ; leaving hearkning or inquir- 
ing where the King is or goes, be it early or late ; -without grudging, 
mumbling, or talking of the King's pastime, late or early going to bed, 
or any other matter. 

" That the six gentlemen of the privy chamber shall have a vigilant 
and reverend eye and respect to his Grace ; so that, by his look or 
countenance, they may know what he lacketh, or what is his pleasure 
to be had or done." 

It was also enacted, *' That all such nobles as repaired to the par- 
liament, were immediately to depart into their several counties, on 
pain of his high displeasure, and to be further punished as to him or 
his Highness's council shall be thought convenient." 

f It is remarkable that two of the gentlemen permitted to enter the 
King's chamber at all hours, were Weston and Norris, both of whom 
were afterwards beheaded. 



224 THE COURT. 

new advisers^ — the enemies of Wolsey and tlie abettors of the 
Reformation. Unwilling to secede from the church of Rome, 
he persisted in believing that the legate was authorized to j)ro- 
nounce the definitive sentence of divorce ; but even this convic- 
tion did not always control the displeasure with which he wit- 
nessed his tantalizing habit of procrastination. 

During some weeks the Consistorial Court continued to exhibit 
a disgusting mockery of justice. The proceedings were in Latin ; 
and^ to the vulgar, nothing transpired, but the officious testi- 
monies of venal bishops and obsequious nobles in vindication 
of the monarch's conscience. After the first spontaneous ebul- 
litions of sympathy for Catherine, public opinion began to incline 
in favour of the King, who rested his claim on the popular 
argument, that the Pope could not dispense with the laws of 
Grod : whilst the Queen, instead of appealing to the principles 
of humanity and justice, committed her cause to the indefeasible 
authority of the church, — a doctrine that, in England, was every 
day becoming less acceptable. At a second, and a third meet- 
ing, the Queen answered not; Henry, therefore, after having, 
to use the words of Cavendish, ^^ chafed Wolsey,'^ imperiously 
dismissed him with an injunction to require from Catherine an 
immediate compliance with his will. 

The two cardinals repaired to the palace at Bridewell, where 
they surprised Catherine with a skein of silk round her neck, 
working with her maids. On announcing their mission, she at 
first declined a private conference, and finally granted it only to 
announce a firm and immovable determination to abide by the 
decision of the court of Rome. Baffled in his hopes of a com- 
promise, Henry importuned Campeggio for the decretal bull 
which had been intrusted to his care. He knew not how sue- 



CAMPEGGIO'S DECISION. 225 

cessfullj tlie imperial influence had been exerted to cancel this 
document, nor suspected that Campeggio's son, Campana, lately 
arrived in England, had been purposely sent from Rome to 
insure its destruction. 

At length the day arrived when Campeggio was to pronounce 
the definitive sentence. Contrary to Anne Boleyn's fears and 
predictions, Henry insisted he should obtain a favourable verdict ; 
and such was his impatience to realize the anticipation, that he 
privately stole to an apartment adjoining the hall, where he 
could remain an unobserved spectator of the proceedings. The 
King's case being closed, his counsel demanded judgment. An 
anxious pause ensued ; whilst Campeggio, who had hitherto lis- 
tened in profound silence, slowly rising from his chair, delibe- 
rately pronounced the following oration : — 

" I have with care and diligence examined whatever has been 
alleged in the King's behalf; and, indeed, the arguments are 
such, that I might not scruple to pronounce for the King, if 
two reasons did not control and curb my desires to do his Ma- 
jesty right. The Queen withdraws herself from the judgment 
of the court, having before excepted against its supposed par- 
tiality, inasmuch as, she says, nothing can be determined without 
the consent of the Pontiff. Moreover, his Holiness, who is the 
fountain and life of honour, hath, by a special messenger, given 
us to understand, that he hath reserved this cause for his own 
hearing; so that, if we were never so fair to proceed farther, 
peradventure we cannot — I am sure we may not ; wherefore I 
do here dissolve the court : and I beseech those whom this cause 
concerns to take in good part what I have done. I am a feeble 
old man, and see death so near me, that, in a matter of so great 
consequence, neither hope nor fear, nor any other respect but 



226 HENRY'S RAGE. 



•ear; ■ 



that of the Supreme Judge^ before whom I am so soon to appear 
shall sway me/^* 

It is easy to imagine with what rage the King listened to this 
evasive sentence. The assembly remained in mute consterna- 
tion^ till the Duke of Suffolk, conscious of the King's invisible 
presence, starting from his seat, exclaimed with vehemence, "It 
was never well with England since these cardinals sat amongst 
us I" Incensed at this insolence, Wolsey retorted with acri- 
mony : the utmost confusion prevailed ; when Campeggio, who 
alone preserved perfect composure, descending from his throne, 
the audience dispersed to form their own conjectures respecting 
the next steps to be taken to gratify the wishes of their offended 
sovereign. 

The first and immediate effect of Campeggio's verdict, was aug- 
mented rigour towards Catherine ; against whom the Privy Coun- 
cil fulminated an edict, recommending to the King " to absent 
himself from her company, under pretence of her having lately 
assumed cheerfulness, not regarding the King's melancholy and 
discontent, which perverseness plainly showed she was the King's 
enemy, and likely to conspire against his royal life. They there- 
fore presumed, as good and faithful subjects, to admonish him 
for his own sake to withdraw from her society and to remove the 
Princess their daughter, from her evil example."']' 

Henry had long been arbitrary; he now became cruel and 
implacable. At his instigation, Wolsey placed spies among the 
Queen's household, who watched her movements, and reported 
her most simple speeches and inoffensive actions ; but the up- 
rightness and caution of her character repelled treachery; and 
during her complicated trials nothing escaped her lips from 

* Godwin's History of Henry tlie Eighth. 

f Collier. Burnet. * 



WOLSEY'S DISGRACE. 227 

which the most ingenious casuistry could extract an accusation 
of disobedience or sedition. 

The next consequence of the verdict was Wolsey's disgrace. 
Fortunately for Anne Boleyn, her sagacious father had long 
since discovered to what point Campeggio's procrastination was 
tending ; and, as he foresaw that the imperial agents must ulti- 
mately succeed in preventing a papal dispensation, he concerted 
a plan, by which the King should be provoked to defy the sove- 
reign Pontiff, and to legitimate his marriage by an independent 
authority. The first step in this enterprise was to remove Wolsey 
from his counsels, an effort in which he was zealously seconded 
by the cardinaFs enemies, and by his own agents and auxiliaries 
in France and Italy. He had passively allowed Henry to exhale, 
in rage, all the bitterness of his disappointment, till Sir William 
Kingston and Lord Manners (afterwards Earl of Rutland) pro- 
duced an intercepted letter,* which rendered it apparent that 
the cardinal had encouraged the Pope to protract the suit, and 
to withhold or suspend the divorce. This information, however 
obtained. Sir Thomas Boleyn was enabled to confirm by other 
testimony ; and whether these documents were forged or genuine, 
the wished-for impulse was given to the offended sovereign, and 
the favourite's fall decreed : the execution of the sentence was, 

* Burnet asserts, tliat the intercepted letter was procured by the 
agency of Sir Francis Brian, at Rome, and that Lord Rochford sub- 
joined to it a declaration of his own sentiments ; but this appears to 
have been a mistake ; Sir Francis Brian not being in Rome at that time. 
The testimony of Sir William Kingston was derived from some other 
source. That Henry had given credence to these proofs of his mi- 
nistei-'s infidelity, appears, even from Cavendish, who describes the 
King, at their last interview at Grafton, as putting to him some 
questiouci respecting letters, which the cardinal negatived. 



228 EFFECTS OP THE VERDICT. 

iiowever, suspended, partly from Henry's systematic duplicity, 
and partly from that native obstinacy, which rendered him as 
loth to retract an opinion as to relinquish a pursuit. It is even 
probable, that the minister might still have averted his ruin, by 
consenting to take upon himself the sole responsibility of the 
divorce ; but the propitious moment was neglected, and he after- 
wards looked in vain for the returning smiles of fortune. 

The most important circumstance that resulted from Campeg- 
gio's subterfuge, was the accession of strength that it brought 
to the reforming party ; with whom the King himself was com- 
pelled to coalesce, to raise a barrier to the Pope's unlimited 
supremacy. From that memorable day, when the legate had 
delivered his opinion, the tide of national sympathy flowed in 
unison with Henry's feelings. From pride and patriotism, the 
nobility resented the transference of the cause to Rome; the 
citizens murmured at the intrusion of a foreign judicature; the 
provincial gentry echoed the opinions of the nobility ; the peers, 
with the exception of the bishops, were ready to concur with 
the commons, in the exposition and abolition of those abuses 
of ecclesiastical power, which had long oppressed both the higher 
and lower orders of the community. By a new and rapid revo- 
lution of sentiment, the court sanctioned and even patronized 
the doctrine of anti-papal resistance, lately confined almost ex- 
clusively to the small, despised, persecuted sect of Lollards or 
Lutherans, to whom the most precious of all earthly possessions 
was the Bible, which was neither to be obtained nor preserved, 
but with the utmost peril, and which had been consecrated by 
the tears and even the life-blood of its martyred disciples. It 
was not a little singular to trace any correspondence of language 
or sentiment in the favourites of Henry the Eighth, with those 



THE LUTHERANS. 229 

primitive single-minded people, whose kingdom was not of this 
world, and who placed all their happiness and glory in worship- 
ping God according to the dictates of reason and conscience. 
On the dissolution of the Consistorial Court, however, some of 
those heretical truths, which were connected with secular inte- 
rests, obtained many noble champions and defenders, and whilst 
Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, deprecated the interference of popes 
and cardinals, the Duke of Norfolk, though bigoted in his attach- 
ment to the Romish hierarcky, eagerly co-operated in destroying 
"Wolsey, by whom alone its interests could be supported ; Lord 
Kochford and his daughter insensibly softened the King's anti- 
pathy to the new learning, by which appellation was stigmatized 
every doctrine opposed to the old superstitions; the young cava- 
liers assailed with ridicule the monks and the monasteries ; and 
Wiatt is said to have dissipated Henry's most inveterate preju- 
dice against heresy, by humorously exclaiming, ^^ Good Lord ! 
to think that a man must not repent of his sins, without the 
Pope's leave." The pleasantry was relished; for the King 
laughed, and, two or three days after, when the same idea was 
suggested in Cranmer's well-known proposition of procuring 
subscriptions from the most celebrated universities in Europe, 
it obtained the most cordial and unequivocal approbation. Cran- 
mer was summoned to Court — at the first glance engaged Henry's 
partiality ; and having composed an essay in defence of the 
divorce, was sent to advocate the cause in Italy and Germany. 

Exhilarated by new hopes of success, the King commenced a 
progress to Woodstock, attended by Catherine,* and accompa- 
nied by Anne Boleyn. With whatever repugnance the unhappy 
Queen submitted to tlie intrusion of her rival, she too well 

^ UaU. 
20 



230 WOLSEY'S ENEMIES. 



^ 



knew, tliat to her presence, however unwelcome, she was in- 
debted for even the little complacency with which she continued 
to he treated by her discontented husband : nor was this envied 
rival less alive to the mortification of resuming that subordinate 
station which she had hoped to quit for ever ; but she was sen- 
sible that the exigencies of the moment required the sacrifice of 
pride and temper, and that her agency was indispensable to 
counteract those arts by which the cardinal sought to regain 
his master's favour. To achieve this minister's disgrace was 
equally the object of the Catholic Duke of Norfolk, and the 
half-Lutheran Duke of Sufi"olk : with this view, the anti-papal, 
and anti-imperial parties had coalesced, and rallied round Anne 
for patronage and protection. Even the zeal with which she 
attached herself to the former obtained indulgence from its 
opponents, who, in cherishing the declared enemy of Wolsey, 
forgave, or overlooked, the advocate of the Reformation. It 
may be remarked, that, of all who armed against Wolsey, Anne 
Boleyn alone had the stronger motive of self-defence to impel 
her to seek his ruin : from others he might intercept favour or 
preferment, but to her he had been interposed as a fatal and in- 
superable barrier to greatness and felicity ; nor could she shut 
her eyes to the conviction, that, by his perfidious promises of 
friendship, she had been placed in a situation the most tanta- 
lizing and precarious. With sentiments such as these, what was 
her mortification, to be apprised that Cardinal Campeggio was 
approaching Grafton (to bid the King farewell), accompanied by 
Wolsey, who obviously still hoped to regain the confidence of 
his offended sovereign ! Anne's first impression was alarm; but 
it subsided to contempt, when the courtiers, already exulting in 
his downfall, insisted that he would be excluded from the royal 
presence. 



HIS RECEPTION BY HENRY. 231 

On his arrival, it was cvideut that uo preparation had been 
made for his reception ; and whilst Campeggio was ushered into 
a stately chamber, his colleague was indebted to the spontaneous 
kindness of Sir Henry Norris for even a temporary accommoda- 
tion. Accustomed to exist in the artificial atmosphere of pride 
and flattery, Wolsey hardly knew how to believe he owed so 
much to an individual, whom he had hitherto considered as per- 
fectly insignificant ; but collecting all his firmness, he proceeded 
with his accustomed self-j)ossession to the presence-chamber. At 
his entrance, the courtiers smiled, anticipating with malig- 
nant joy his confusion and disgrace. Some had betted that the 
King would not even address him ; others whispered an ominous 
interpretation of his supposed silence. Great, therefore, was 
their surprise, when they perceived that Henry welcomed both 
cardinals with equal cordiality ; and yet greater was their dis- 
may, when, taking Wolsey's hand, he led him into a recess beneath 
a window, where, aloof from all the circle, they stood side by 
side, in low but earnest conversation. Finally, both legates 
were dismissed with courtesy, but Henry commanded Wolsey to 
meet him again in the evening. When the cardinal withdrew, 
a sudden change of aspect was perceived in the astonished cour- 
tiers ; and they mechanically resumed the attentions commonly 
offered to the omnipotent favourite, who retraced his steps in 
triumph. The Dukes of SuiFolk and Norfolk were the first to 
bear to Anne Boleyn the unwelcome tidings. Naturally high- 
spirited and ingenuous, she could ill disguise her vexation at 
Henry's conduct, which, to her quick apprehension, argued no- 
thing less than the total dereliction of his late engagements. 
The King, who, in his progresses, indulged himself with the 
liberty of choosing his own party, that day dined in her apart- 



232 WOLSEY'S EVENING VISIT TO HENRY. 



ne-3."' 



ment,* wliere, even at table; she so little controlled her feelings, 
that; even in the presence of the waiters, she audaciously ar- 
raigned the cardinal's maladministration; reprobated the heavy 
loans he had contracted in the sovereign's name, to the preju- 
dice of the subject ; " Had my father; or unclC; or the Duke of 
Suffolk; adventured but half as much; he would have lost his 
head." Amused, if not flattered; by this inquietude; Henry 
suffered her to proceed, with no other comment, than that he 
perceived she was not the cardinal's friend ; to which she re- 
joined; ^^I have no cause; or any that love you; no more hath 
your G-racC; if you did but well consider his indirect and unlaw- 
ful doings." Not even the flattering insinuation conveyed in 
these words prevented Henry from admitting Wolsey to an even- 
ing conference of two hours, during which Anne endured; by 
anticipation; all the torments of disappointed ambition. She 
dreaded the renewal of Henry's scruples to those measures, 
which he had with difficulty been induced to adopt. She remem- 
bered; with terror; his former vacillation and inconsistency; and 
believed her cause lost for ever; if Wolsey were restored to his 
confidence. The anti-ministerial party gathered round her; and 
the interval was spent in anxious deliberation. At length the 
cardinal departed by torch-light ; but not before another appoint- 
ment had been made for the next morning. At this news Anne 
lost hope and patience : she seemed not to have knowU; or not 
to have remembered; that Henry smiled on those whom he pre- 
destined to destruction ; nor did she calculate what powerful 
reasons might induce him to dissemble; when prudence suggested 
the propriety of concealing the alteration in his sentiments from 

* In general Henry dined with his Queen ; but during a progress 
they might occasionally be separated. 



ANNE'S INFLUENCE OVER HENRY. 233 

Campeggio, who was about to return to Rome, where he still 
flattered himself he might obtain a favourable judgment. It is 
also probable, that he wished to ascertain how far the cardinal 
had really been accessary to his late disappointment. That he 
accused him of clandestine correspondence with the Pope, is 
acknowledged even by Cavendish, who heard his master in gene- 
ral terms disclaim the charge. The King, at the moment, might 
seem satisfied ; but, in him, suspicion was not easily allayed : 
and although he dismissed the minister with kindness, evidently 
never meant to renew their friendship. In the morning, when 
AVolsey returned at the hour appointed, the King, recollecting an 
engagement with Anne, parted from him with courtesy too stu- 
died to deceive a practised courtier. Offended at this new in- 
stance of duplicity, Anne betrayed, by her countenance, that in- 
dignation she ventured not to express, and darting on "Wolsey a 
glance of mingled anger and disdain, passed on, without vouch- 
safing the least obeisance. 

After the cardinal's departure, no one remained to undermine 
or counteract the influence of Anne Boleyn. In walking and 
riding, she was the King's chosen companion, the depositary of 
all his cares and vexations, the inventress of his amusements, 
the dispenser of his pleasures. In obtaining and preserving 
this empire, Anne discovered powers of understanding, far dif- 
ferent from those superficial though seducing accomplishments, 
with which she had first captivated his affections. Of her 
strength of character, she is said, during this progress, to have 
given a convincing proof, by persuading Henry to visit a spot 
in Woodstock Forest, which had the reputation of being haunted, 
and of which there was a prediction extant, that the king who 
approached it would not survive. Although Henry was natu- 



234 FALL OF WOLSEY. 

rally superstitious, she had the eloquence and address to induce 
him to confront the chimerical danger, and enjoyed the triumph 
he had obtained over his fantastic terrors.* It might have been 
apprehended that the King would scarcely tolerate any supe- 
riority in a woman ; but, at this time, he had not entirely lost 
the sensibilities of youth ; his early prepossessions had been fa- 
vourable to the female character : to his grandmother, the cele- 
brated Countess of Derby, he had been accustomed to yield 
implicit deference ; the example of his mother, and his wife, had 
taught him to require a high standard of female virtue ; nor were 
there wanting, among the distinguished women of that age, in- 
dividuals who might sanction the pretensions of their sex to 
intellectual equality. But neither in Margaret of Savoy, nor 
Margaret of Navarre, had the union of sense and softness, of 
gaiety and reserve, been so attractively blended as in Anne 
Boleyn. Among all her superior attractions, however, there 
was perhaps none so well calculated to confirm the King's attach- 
ment, as that she was strikingly contrasted with the superstitious 
Catherine, nor is it impossible, but that he was the more readily 
induced to make the effort to overcome any weakness in which 
she participated. 

Within a month after his final interview with the King at 
Grafton, the cardinal was deprived of the Grreat Seal, and stripped 
of his treasures; to escape imprisonment, he confessed himself 
guilty of premuniTe/^ and surrendered to the King all his pos- 
sessions. Appeased by submission, Henry condescended, from 

* Fox. 

f By virtue of the statute of Richard the Second, against the 
supremacy of ecclesiastical over civil courts. The King had, however, 
himself sanctioned Wolsey's acceptance of the legatine authority. 



HIS RETIREMENT. 235 

time to time^ to send liini assurances of friendsliip ; but evinced 
the insincerity of these professions, by allowing the Commons to 
exhibit against him articles of impeachment, which were, how- 
ever, repelled and refuted by his secretary, Cromwel. The car- 
dinal met not calamity with manly firmness : ever vacillating 
between the love of power and of fame, he professed a desire to 
leave the world, assumed a hermit's garb, entered the monastery 
of Shene, and accidentally lodged in the room formerly occupied 
by Dean Colet, that virtuous and disinterested advocate for know- 
ledge and truth, whose supreme ambition was, not to dazzle, but 
improve and bless mankind. Whether Wolgey was here visited by 
compunctious recollections of his former abuse of power and pros- 
perity, or whether the nobler energies of his nature resumed their 
ascendancy, he became seriously anxious to perpetuate some 
claims to the gratitude of posterity, and earnestly implored the 
King to spare, at least, the colleges of Ipswich, and Oxford, 
which, under his auspices, had been erected ; but to this petition, 
was annexed another, more consonant with mundane vanity, 
" that he would be pleased to allow the superb monument, con- 
structed for him by the famous Benedetto,* to be his future 
tomb," to which he was, he said, "from the heaviness of his 
soul, fast descending/' That he was not sincere in his renunci- 
ation of the world, may with reason be inferred, from his abject 
supplications to Anne Boleyn, through the medium of Cromwel ; 
to whom, according to Cavendish, she gave gentle words, although 
she resolutely and wisely refused a mediation, by which she 
must have compromised the interests of the reforming party. 

* Benedetto, a statuary at Florence, was employed by "Wolsey to 
construct his monument, to ■which Antony Cavellei'i was to furnish the 
gilding ; which, though unfinished, had already cost 4250 ducats. This 
monument was seized hy Henry, hut never completed. 




236 WOLSEY'S CATHOLICISM. 

It may be doubted whether even her intercession would have 
availed^ after Henry had . once gratified his rapacity with the 
spoils of his former favourite^ who was however at length par 
doncd and dismissed to his archiepiscopal see of York, and the 
comparative poverty of four thousand per annum. 

Thus fell the first, perhaps the only despotic minister of Henry 
the Eighth. His character has been often portrayed ; hut one 
of its most remarkable features, that overweening respect for the 
Church, which disposed him to hold all other objects and duties 
subordinate to its dignity, appears to have been generally over- 
looked or forgotten. Paradoxical as it may seem, the austere 
Becket was not more zealous to vindicate the prerogative and 
exalt the honours of ecclesiastical supremacy, than the gay, vo- 
luptuous, and insinuating Wolsey. It was the master-passion of 
his soul to restore to its former omnipotence that papal throne, 
of which he always hoped to obtain the sovereignty. Even his 
love of learning, in other respects the emanation of a munificent 
spirit, was modified by this sentiment. In founding colleges, he 
sought but to raise ornaments for the pulpit. To the laity he 
left the comforts of ignorance ; and, resisting every effort to en- 
lighten the people, watched over political and theological publi- 
cations with a jealousy not unworthy of the holy office,* and 
directed against such as were either suspected or detected of 

* This vigilance was more particularly directed against political 
strictures. In 1527, he took cognisance of a Christmas interlude, per- 
formed at Gray's Inn, of which the argument was, that Lord Gover- 
nance was ruled by Lady Dissipation and Lady Negligence, by whose mis- 
rule Ladj Public Weale was put from Governance, which caused Rumor 
Pojpuli to rise vi et armis, to expel Negligence, and restore Public Weale 
to her castle. The compiler of this piece, which was greatly ap- 
plauded, was committed to the Fleet. 



HIS SUCCESSORS. ^ 237 

heretical pravityj a rigorous prosecution. It escaped not AVol- 
sey's penetration^ that it was from the same ray of light that 
emanated civil and religious liberty; and his abhorrence of 
Lutheranism flowed perhaps from the impression^ that the rights 
of conscience were • inseparable from the common rights of hu- 
manity : yet his political sagacity failed to discover, that the 
persecution, by which the heretic was devoted to the flames, 
threw a sacred halo over those doctrines he would have impugned, 
and consecrated to pity that sect which he abhorred. 

On the ruins of Wolsey's colossal greatness arose four minis- 
ters of various talents and pretensions. The first was Gardiner, 
his former dependant and confidant; who had originally pur- 
sued the law, but afterwards entered the Church, for which he 
showed attachment when he became Bishop of Winchester. 
Born with that penetration which almost assumes the character 
of prescience, it was his privilege, that, whilst he unravelled and 
explained air other minds, he remained himself inscrutable to 
observation. His duplicity was, however, not always criminal, 
since he ceased not to serve Wolsey with fidelity, when he 
entered into a clandestine correspondence with Anne Boleyn. 
Prompt and decided, with no scruples of conscience, no emotions 
of humanity, he was formed to execute the will of his imperious 
sovereign. An ingenious sophist, whatever was the subject of 
discussion, his argument flowed with facility; and it is notorious 
that he wrote, almost at the same time, to support the Pope's supre- 
niacy and the King's independence. He detested the Reformation, 
yet promoted the marriage of Anne Boleyn ; and artfully adapted 
his principles, or rather his prejudices, to the exigencies of the 
moment. 

Next to Gardiner, and infimtely superior to him in energy and 



238 SIR THOMAS MORE. 

vigour^ was Cromwel; tlie secretary of Wolsey^ who, by under- 
taking his master's defence in Parliament, ushered forward his 
own talents, and excited a general prepossession in his favour. 
Nature had formed this man for great emergencies. Of mean 
birth* and vulgar education, he joined the army in Flanders as 
a volunteer, and by his bravery and indigence attracted the no- 
tice of a humane merchant named Frescobald, who recommended 
him to Wolsey's service ; and to whom he afterwards well repaid 
the debt of gratitude. Quickness and diligence supplied in him 
the deficiencies of early education ; society polished his mind and 
manners ; and he became, if not a classical, an eloquent English 
orator. Cromwel was no churchman, nor did he imbibe Wolsey's 
predilections for Roman supremacy ; yet his attachment to the 
Reformation evidently flowed from political calculations. After 
Wolsey's banishment, he had frequent access to Henry, to whom 
he boldly demonstrated the advantages to be derived from an 
abolition of the Pope's power, and the suppression of certain 
ecclesiastical privileges. Henry relished the suggestion, and, 
under the title of Yicar-general, (derived from the Pope,) 
Cromwel was eventually to subvert the Pope's Anglican juris- 
diction. 

In the dignified office of Chancellor, or, as it was then desig- 
nated. Lord Keeper, Wolsey was succeeded by Sir Thomas More, 
a man well born and liberally educated, imbued with the spirit 
of classical literature, celebrated for his wit and learning, and 
exemplary in all the domestic relations of life. He had applied 

* Cromwel was tlie son of a blacksmith ; for his diligence in sup- 
pressing monasteries, he was created Baron Cromwel ; for his exertions 
in making the match between Henry and the Lady Anne of Cleves, he 
was first raised to the dignity of Earl of Essex, and then beheaded. 



CRANMER. 239 

to the study of law with success, and was justly revered for his 
professional integrity, and domestic virtues ; but these admirable 
qualities were tarnished by bigotry, not more repugnant to his 
native dispositions than unworthy of his understanding. Alarmed 
at the progress of Lutheranism, he was weak enough to imagine 
that the exercise of reason was to be suspended by the sword and 
the flame ; that the ever-active and progressive principle of the 
human mind was to be arrested by decrees and statutes, and 
persecutions alike repugnant to sound policy and genuine piety. 
It is a melancholy reflection, that More's sanguinary adminis- 
tration almost obliterated the memory of Wolsey's rigours, and 
that the stigma of cruelty and pusillanimity is thus affixed to a 
name, which must otherwise have commanded the veneration and 
inspired the gratitude of posterity.* 

Of a difierent complexion was Cranmer ; a priest, unfitted for 
his profession by his social instincts, his lively sympathies, and 
large capacities for tenderness and ben-evolence. In early youth 
he had sacrificed ambition to love, by marrying the object of his 
choice, who survived not long this proof of devoted attachment : 
on her death, believing himself for ever weaned from domestic 
afi"ections, he re-entered the church, and after due probation pro- 

* In Strype, Fox, and Collier, -will be found various examples of Sir 
Thomas More's severity. For the spirit with which he regarded heresy, 
we have his own authority, in the following passage: — "That which 
I professc in my epitaph, is, that I have been troublesome to heretics. 
I have done it with a little ambition, for I so hate them, these kind of 
men, that I would be their sorest enemy that I could, if they will not 
repent ; for I find them such men, and so to increase every day, that I 
even greatly fear the world will be undone by them." Dialogues on 
Heretics. — With such sentiments it was impossible but that More 
should be the inveterate enemy of Anne Boleyn. 



240 CRANMER. 

nounced the irrevocable vows. From learning and eloquence he 
obtained but barren praise, till having accepted the situation of 
tutor in Mr. Cressey^s family by the fortunate intervention of 
Fox and Gardiner, he was introduced to the notice of Henry, 
by whom he was retained, to advocate the divorce, and defend 
the cause at Rome, and in Grermany. The life of Cranmer was 
not without romantic incidents : during his residence on the 
Continent, he discovered that he still possessed a heart suscepti- 
ble of tender impressions. Associated under the same roof with 
the amiable niece of Osiander,* he once more questioned the 
right of the church to divorce its ministers from the best and 
dearest charities of life. In Grermany the most eminent divines 
had abjured the monkish vows of celibacy ; and Cranmer, find- 
ing nothing in Scripture to enforce the obligation, was privately 
united to the object of his affections, little foreseeing he should 
hereafter renounce the name of husband to accept the primacy 
of England.")" 

There is something in the character of Cranmer that disap- 
points expectation, and leads us to suspect his naturally noble 
and ingenuous mind had been enervated by premature prosperity. 
On great occasions he evinced both fortitude and magnanimity ; 
but to the minor trials and temptations of life, he brought not 
the firmness and intrepidity displayed by some prelatical con- 
temporaries. It may, however, be observed, if he knew not to 

* A celebrated Lutheran divine. 

f By this lady, who privately followed him to England, he had 
several children : she lived with him many years as his known though 
not acknowledged wife, till the promulgation of the six articles by 
Henry compelled him to send her back to Germany, where she con- 
tinued, till the accession of Edward the Sixth. 



STATE OF MORALS. 241 

suffer like Fisher, nor to resist with Latimer, he possessed higher 
capacities of understanding than these ascetic devotees, and that 
he was perhaps too enlightened, and even too benevolent to par- 
ticipate in that fanatical or bigoted zeal, sometimes associated 
with sublime heroism and magnanimous integrity. For hu- 
manity, and the gentler virtues of civilized society, Cranmer was 
eminently conspicuous, and of all the early English reformers, 
appears most to have been misplaced in the court of Henry the 
Eighth, and the age of Charles the Fifth. Of the low state of 
morals in Europe, at this period, the mission to the universities 
affords decisive proof, since in France, and even in Italy, where 
the new doctrines had been strenuously opposed, and the Pope's 
infallibility was upheld as the palladium of Christianity, sub- 
scriptions were easily purchased for the King's cause. Henry's 
gold prevailed more than Gardiner's eloquence; and not only 
from the University of Toulouse, but from those of Padua and 
Bologna, a declaration was obtained the most derogatory to their 
professed principles.* 

Subscriptions were not procured with the same facility in 
Germany, where, according to the maxims of worldly policy, no 
opposition could have been anticipated from the Lutherans, who 
had cogent motives for seeking to conciliate one of the most 
powerful princes in Europe. ■[■ Yet neither bribery nor persua- 

* It is in vain, that Burnet attempts to persuade himself and his 
readers, that Henry's cause was not supported by bribery : the records 
of Strype and Collier attest the fact ; and it appears from the cor- 
respondence of Cardinal du Bellai, that the decisions of the French 
universities were influenced not only by gold, but the authority of their 
monarch. 

f Of this marked difference between the Catholics and the Lutherans, 
21 



242 THE CLERGY. 

sion could extort from them subscriptions or declarations which 
they internally condemned as repugnant to the principles of 
equity and justice. Even Luther, although he censured Henry's 
marriage with Catherine; reprobated the divorce. Other eminent 
divines contended for the preservation of the Queen's rights, and 
those of her offspring. Such was the moral feeling inspired by 
the pursuit of truth ; such the integrity of men, who had learned 
to exercise reason, uncontrolled by authority, in defiance of per- 
secution ! 

In England it was not without management that the two uni- 
versities were rendered subservient to the royal will. Alarmed 
by the disaffection lately manifested to their body by the King 
and parliament, the English clergy clung to the ark of Rome, 
with the vain hope of protecting abuses which the superstition 
of* former ages had consecrated, but which were now execrated 
and abhorred. These terrors were not unfounded. At the in- 

the learned Croke furnishes a curious illustration in tlie following let- 
ter, dated Venice : — 

" My fidelity bindeth me to advertize your Highness, that all Lu- 
therans be utterly against your cause, and have letted as much with 
their wretched power, malice without reason or authority, as they 
could, and might, as well here as in Padua and Germany. I doubt not 
but all Christian universities, if they be well handled, will earnestly 
conclude with your Highness. As from the seignory and dominion of 
Venice, towards Rome, and beyond Rome, I think there can be no 
more done than is done already. Albeit, I have besides this seal pro- 
cured unto your Highness an hundred and ten subscriptions, yet it 
had been nothing in comparison of that I might easily have done. At 
this hour, I assure you, I have neither provision nor money, and have 
borrowed an hundred crowns, the which also are spent." — He con- 
cludes by imploring him not to suffer the cause to be lost for want of 
pecuniary supplies. 



THE CLERGY. 243 

stigation of Cromwel, six bills were introduced into the Com- 
mons, directly levelled against the evils created by ecclesiastical 
prerogatives.* 

Involved in Wolsey's delinquency of premunirej the clergy 
not only submitted to the penalty of a hundred thousand pounds, 
but recognised the sovereign as supreme head of the church ; 
the parliament had next been inculpated, but received a gracious 
pardon, and the King's debts to the people were cancelled.f At 

* It is curious to trace, in the preamble of this bill, a positive con- 
firmation of all the arguments advanced in the Supplication of Beg- 
gars against Popery : — 1st, The oppressive fines extorted by the or- 
dinary for the probates of wills : 2d, Extreme rigour in exacting mortu- 
aries : od. The vexatious rapacity of stewards to bishops : 4th, The in- 
ti'usion of abbots and priests in keeping tan-houses, buying and sell- 
ing cloth and wool, like other merchants : 5th, That the incumbent of 
a good benefice was commonly maintained in some nobleman's family, 
regardless of the spiritual or temporal interests of his flock : 6th, The 
plurality of livings, by which many an illiterate priest was maintained 
in affluence, whilst many a learned scholar could not obtain a liveli- 
hood. Adverting to the extortion for mortuaries, it is said, ''though 
the children of the defunct should go begging, they would take from 
him even the seely cow which the dead man owed them." As an in- 
stance of the excessive exaction for probates of wills, it is mentioned 
that Sir Henry Guildford, as executor to Sir "William Compton's will, 
paid to the Archbishop of Canterbury the enormous sum of one thou- 
sand marks. 

f The following extract from that spirited tract, the Beggars' Sup- 
plication against Popery, appears to be a genuine transcript of the 
popular impression against the enormous usurpations of the clergy. 
This tract, suppressed by Wolsey and More, was privately sent to 
Anne Boleyn, who relished it so much, that she ventured to impart it 
to Henry. The King liked the work, but at that time ventured not to 
avow his sentiments. In 1538 it was openly presented to him at court, 



244 THE CLERGY. 

another time this fraud would have called forth popular indigna- 
tion; but such was the general satisfaction produced by the 
seasonable relief from ecclesiastical oppression, that the mur- 

and is confessedly one of the most eloquent productions of that period. 
The close of the exordium presents a curious mixture of pedantry and 
argument : — 

" These are not the herds for sheep, but the ravenous wolves going 
in herds' clothing, devouring the flock. The bishops, abbots, priors, 
deacons, archdeacons, suflFragans, priests, monks, canons, friars, par- 
doners, and somners, and who is able to number this idle ravenous 
S'ort, (which setting all labour aside) have begged so importunately, 
that they have gotten into their hands more than the third part of all 
your realm. The goodliest lordships, manors, lands, and territories 
are theirs. Besides this, they have the tenth part of all the corn, 
meadow, pasture, grass, wool, colts, calves, lambs, pigs, geese and 
chickens ; over and besides the tenth part of every servant's wages, 
the tenth part of the wool, milk, honey, wax, cheese, and butter ; yea, 
they look so narrowly upon their profits, that the poor wives must be 
accountable to them for every tenth egg, or else she getteth not her 
rights at Easter, and shall be taken as an heretick. Hereto have they 
their four offering-days. What money pull they in by probates of tes- 
taments, privy tithes, and by men's offerings to their pilgrimages ! 
And at their first masses, every man and child that is buried must pay 
somewhat for masses and dirges to be sung for him, or else they will 
accuse the dead's friends and executors of heresy! What money get 
they by mortuaries, by hearing of confessions, (and yet they will keep 
thereof no counsel), by hallowing of churches, altars, super-altars, 
chapels, and bells ; by cursing of men and absolving them again for 
money ! What multitudes of money gather the pardoners in a year, 
by citing the people to the Commissaries Court, and afterwards releas- 
ing the appearance for money ! Finally, the infinite number of beggar- 
friars, what get they in a year ! 

"Here, if it please your grace to mark, we shall see a thing far 
out of joint: — there are, within your realm of England, fifty- two parish 



THE CLERGY. 245 

niiirs of discontent wore soon suppressed; and Henry, in satis- 
fying his immeasurable rapacity, inspired the gratitude due only 
to a generous benefactor. 

cliurches, and this standing ; that there be but ten households in every 
parish, yet are there five hundred thousand and twenty thousand house- 
holds, and of every of these households hath every of the five orders 
of friars a penny a quarter for every order ; tnat is, for all the five 
orders, five-pence a quarter for every house ; that is, for all the five 
orders, twenty pence a year for every house ; summa totalis forty-four 
thousand pounds ; and three hundred and thirty-three pounds six 
shillings and eight-pence sterling, whereof not four hundred years 
past, they had not one penny. Oh ! grievous and painful exactions, 
thus yearly to be paid, from which the people of your noble predeces- 
sors, the kings of the ancient Britons, ever stood free ! 

*' And this will they have, or else they will procure him that will not 
give it them to be taken as an heretic. What tyranny ever oppressed 
the people like this cruel and vengable generation? What subjects 
shall be able to help their prince, that be after this fashion yearly 
polled ? What good Christian prince can be able to succour us poor 
lepers, blind, sore, and lame, that be thus yearly oppressed ? Is it 
any marvel that your people so complain of poverty ? Is it any marvel 
that the taxes, fifteenths, and subsidies, that your Grace most tenderly 
of great compassion hath taken from among your people, to defend 
them from the threatened ruin of your commonwealth, seeing that 
almost the uttermost penny that might have been levied hath been 
gathered before, verily, by this ravenous, cruel, and insatiable genera- 
tion ? — The Danes, neither the Saxons, in the times of the antient 
Britons, should never have been able to have brought their armies from 
so far hither, and to your land, to have conquered it, if they had, at 
that time, such a sort of idle gluttons to find at home; — the noble 
King Arthur had never been able to have carried his army to the foot 
of the mountains to resist the coming down of Lucius the emperor, if 
such yearly exactions had been taken of his people ; — the Greeks had 
21* 



246 REMONSTRANCES. 

From this commencement the reformers drew the most auspi- 
cious presage. Henry's passions were enlisted in their cause; 
and he was too much delighted to have discovered an unex- 
pected mine of wealthy to listen to the denunciations of Fisher, 
or the warning of Wolsey, who constantly identified the adver- 
saries of the Church with the subverters of government, and 
bequeathed a solemn charge against the Lutherans.* To pre- 

never been able to have so long continued at tlie siege of Troy, if they 
had had such an idle sort of cormorants to find ; — the antient Romans 
had never been able to put all the world under their obeisance, if their 
people had been thus oppressed ; — the Turk, now in your time, should 
never be able to get so much ground of Christendom, if he had in his 
empire such a sort of locusts to devour his substance : lay then these 
sums to the aforesaid third part of the possessions of the realm, that 
you may see whether it draw nigh to the half of the whole substance 
of the realm or not; so shall you find that it draweth far above." 

"'^ The Cardinal died at Leicester, 1530, as he was journeying to Lon- 
don to take his trial on a new charge of high treason. By a singular 
chance it devolved on Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland, Anne 
Boleyn's unfortunate lover, to take into custody his former lord. Wolsey 
was preparing for his installation in York cathedral, which was to be 
celebrated with a magnificence never before witnessed in that remote 
county. On hearing of the Earl's arrival, he expressed the most cor- 
dial satisfaction, and affectionately embraced him, regretting that he 
had not been better prepared for his reception. The Earl, who was 
ill-suited to his ofi&ce, pale and trembling, in scarcely articulate accents, 
said, " I arrest you." The cardinal refused to recognise his authority; 
but on seeing Sir William Kingston, surrendered to him without re- 
sistance. Both his jailers endeavoured to dissipate his apprehensions, 
and to persuade him that the King merely wished to afford him an op- 
portunity of exculpating his conduct. AVithout hesitation the cardinal 
commenced his journey; but soon finding himself too ill to proceed, 
prepared for death, conversing to his last moments with that persuasive 



DEATH OF WOLSEY. 247 

vent a total breach with the court of Rome, the principal nobi- 
lity and clergy addressed a remonstrance to Clement, in which, 
after having stated the decisions of the universities in favour of 
the divorce, they protested, that by withholding his consent, he 
would compel the King and his subjects to withdraw from his 
paternal protection. To this paper Wolsey had perhaps refused 
to affix his signature ; and whether Henry was exasperated by 
his obstinacy, or suspicious of his loyalty, articles of treason 
were exhibited against him ; and, but for the seasonable arrival 
of death, he would have been conducted to the Tower, to linger 
in misery, or expire with shame. The death of Wolsey accele- 
rated not the divorce ; but Henry still kept his court at Green- 
wich, with Queen Catherine, and still solaced himself with the 
society of Anne Boleyn. 

During two years, the King had alternately employed me- 
naces and solicitations, to obtain the sanction of a papal dispensa- 
tion. Convinced, at length, that his applications were wholly 
unavailing, in the sessions of 1532, he caused the declarations 
of the several universities* to be communicated to the parlia- 

eloquence wMch had so often bewitched the sovereign who now de- 
creed his fate. In his concluding speech to Kingston, who had been, 
unknown to him, his secret enemy, he made an allusion to the cause 
of his misfortunes, which countenances the idea that he had originally- 
suggested to Henry the possibility of effecting the divorce: "There- 
fore, Mr. Kingston, I warn you, if it chance you hereafter to be of his 
privy council, as for your wisdom you are very mete, be well assured 
and advised what you put in his head, for ye shall never put it out 
again." — AYordsworth's Edition of Cavendish's Life of Wolsey. 

* The universities of Orleans, Paris, Anjou, Toulouse, Blois, Bo- 
logna, and Padua, Oxford and Cambridge. That Henry did not submit 
the question to the discussion of parliament is evident, from the man- 



248 'dismissal of CATHERINE. 

ment ; after whicli a deputation from their body waited on the 
Queen, to persuade and admonish her to submit to the laws of 
G-od. But Catherine persisting in her former answer, she was 
warned ^^that the King would in future he advised to abstain 
altogether from her society/' Notwithstanding this denuncia- 
tion, however, Henry appears to have celebrated with her the 
Easter festival at Windsor ; after which he signified his pleasure, 
that she should remove to another place. To this injunction she 
yielded implicit obedience, and repaired first to More Park, and 
afterwards to East Hampstead; whilst the King, more than 
ever perplexed, withdrew from convivial society, and neglected 
all ordinary amusements, to devise some feasible expedient for 
realizing his intended marriage. With his parliament he deigned 
not to consult ; either because he discovered not in their body 
the competence to ofi"er any decision on the question, or because 
he distrusted the validity of statutes, which experience had 
taught him might be confirmed or cancelled at pleasure by a suc- 
ceeding administration. Hitherto it had rather been by acci- 
dent than choice, if he met the views of the reforming party; 
but the Pope's inflexibility left him no other resource than a 
vigorous adoption of their principles. In prohibiting the con- 
tribution of annates or first-fruits, he made another attack on the 
authority of the supreme Pontiff, which, coming in the shape of 

ner in -which the Lord Chancellor dismissed them: — "Now you, in this 
Commons house, may report in your counties what you have seen and 
heard, and then all men shall openly perceive that the King hath not 
attempted this matter of will and pleasure, as some strangers report, 
but only for the discharge of his conscience, and suretie of the suc- 
cession of this realm. This is the cause of our repair to you, and now 
will we depart." 



HENRY'S EMBARRASSMENT. 249 

financial calculation, was not unacceptable even to the clergy or 
the people. Still Henry hesitated to take a step by which he 
must formally separate himself and his subjects from the mitred 
chief, whose spiritual jurisdiction was acknowledged by every 
people of Christendom. Retaining the pusillanimous scruples 
imbibed from education, he sought for some royal or imperial 
precedent by which to regulate his conduct, and eagerly sug- 
gested the idea of establishing in his own dominions a patriarch, 
or convoking a general council, according to the practice of the 
Eastern Empire ; but above all things Henry was desirous to 
engage the concurrence, and even the co-operation of the King 
of France in those projected substitutions and improvements. 
Through the agency of Cardinal du Bellai (Bishop of Bayonne), 
he had lately maintained a private correspondence with Francis, 
who urged him without delay to conclude the marriage with 
Anne Boleyn. To satisfy his doubts, however, Henry persisted 
in deferring it till after he should have had a confidential meet- 
ing with him at Calais. The intervening time was partly spent 
in deliberations with Cromwel, then his efficient, if not his 
favourite, minister; in theological discussions with Cranmer; 
and, above all, in the delightful society of Anne Boleyn, with 
whom he now more openly associated. 

During the last year she had resided in her father's mansion, 
at Durham House,* but frequently rode in public with the King 
and his courtiers, in their pleasurable excursions to Richmond 
and Windsor. At this period Cranmer, who was still domesti- 

* On the site of the Aclelphi. It was a spacious and magnificent 
mansion, remarkable for having been the house where the guilty Earl 
and Countess of Somerset lived several years without speaking to each 
other. 



250 INTERCOURSE OF HENRY AND ANNE. 

cated in lier family, spent niucli of liis time in Anne's society, 
and zealously improved the opportunity for infusing into her 
mind his own sentiments respecting the Reformation. In his 
correspondence with the Earl of Wiltshire, he mentions her asso- 
ciation with the King in a manner that plainly shows that he 
considered it as a favourable omen. '^ The Countess/' he writes 
in one of his letters, ^^ is well. The King and the Lady Anne 
rode to Windsor yesterday, and to-night they he expected at 
Hampton-Court. God be their* guide." From the emphasis 
with which Cranmer dwells on this circumstance, it is obvious 
that he anticipates from their increasing intimacy results the 
most auspicious to the progress of religious liberty. This idea 
was too flattering to Anne to be rejected; and the enthusiasm 
which it inspired in some degree relieved the cares and dignified 
the pursuits of ambition. Fortified by the decisions of the 
most celebrated divines of Europe, she conceived the dissolution 
of Henry's union with Catherine to be an indispensable act of 
duty ; and it is probable that this persuasion, by reconciling her 
to herself, increased her happiness and her benevolence. After 
his formal separation from Catherine, Henry spent the summer 
of 1532 in a running progressf through Middlesex and Berk- 
shire. In whatever place he sojourned, Anne Boleyn had also 
a temporary residence in its vicinity ; and they were every day 
accustomed to meet on some chosen spot, and to spend many hours 
in walking and riding together.J During the progress of the 

* Strype's Cranmer. f Hall. 

f Some of these scenes are still preserved in traditional remem- 
brance. In the neighbourhood of Staines was a nunnery, which is 
said to have sometimes afforded Anne Boleyn a temporary retreat ; and 
about a mile distant stood a yew-tree, which was believed to have been 



HENRY'S DOMESTIC HABITS. 251 

divorce, Henry had acquired a keener relish for rural recrea- 
tions, and the privileges of domestic privacy ; he was no longer 
the frolic-loving prince, who had delighted to surprise his con- 
sort in the fantastic disguise of Robin Hood, — who was first in 
the lists, and foremost in the dance. Of his domestic habits 
and manners at this period, we have a pleasing picture in the 
correspondence of Cardinal du Bellai, who appears to have been 
admitted to his familiar intimacy ; and the following letter, ad- 
dressed to the Grand Master, Montmorenci, offer some amusing 
details of royal hospitality :* — 

" I should be unjust, not to acknowledge the handsome and 
very friendly attentions I have received from the King (and his 
court), and in particular the familiar intimacy to which he has 
admitted me. I am every day alone with him hunting ; he chats 
familiarly of his private affairs, and takes as much trouble to 
make me a partaker of his sports and his pleasures, as if I were 
in reality the superior personage. Sometimes Madame Anne 
joins our party ; each equipped with the bow and arrows, as is, you 
know, the English style in hunting. Sometimes he places us 
both in a spot where we shall be sure to see him shoot the deer 
as they pass ; and whenever he reaches a lodge appropriated to 
his servants, he alights to tell of all the feats that he has per- 
formed, and of all that he is about to do. The Lady Anne pre- 
sented me with a complete hunting-suit, including a hat, a bow 
and arrow, and a greyhound. Do not fancy I announce this 
gift to make you believe I am thought worthy to possess a lady's 

the spot where Henry, at a certain hour, was accustomed to meet Anne 
Boleyn. 

* These letters are appended to the History of the Divorce of Henry 
and Catherine, by Le Grand. 



252 CARDINAL BELLAI'S LETTER. 

favour. I merely state it to let you see how much this prince 
values the friendship of our monarch ; for whatever this lady 
does is by King Henry's suggestion.'' 

In another letter^ which is dated Hanwell, the cardinal inti- 
mates how ardently it is desired by Anne and Henry, that the 
former should he included in the intended meeting at Calais or 
Boulogne. ^^ I am convinced our sovereign, if he wished to 
gratify the King and Madame Anne, could devise nothing better 
than to authorize me to entreat that she may accompany him to 
Calais, to be there received and entertained with due respect ; (it 
is nevertheless desirable that there be no company of ladies, 
since there is always better cheer without them ;) but in that 
case, it would be necessary the King of France should bring the 
Queen of Navarre to Boulogne, that she in like manner might 
receive and entertain the King of England ; I shall not mention 
with whom this idea originates, being pledged to secrecy ; but 
you may be well assured I do not write without authority. As 
to the Queen of France,* she is quite out of the question, as he 
would not meet her for the world ; that Spanish costume is to 
him as abhorrent as the very devil. It would also give him 
great pleasure if the King would bring with him his sons, with 
whom he desires to cultivate a friendship. The Duke of Norfolk 
assures me, that much good may be expected to result from this 
interview ; and that it will redound to the honour and glory of 
both nations. Let me however whisper, that our King ought 
to exclude from his train all imperialists, if any such there be 
in his court; and to take especial care that no mischievous wags 
or coxcomical jesters accompany him, a species of character utterly 

* The Emperor's sister ; consequently too nearly related to the in- 
jured Catherine. 



ANNE BOLEYN'S OCCUPATIONS. 253 

detested by this people." — From this brief sketch, it is easy to 
discover, that to preserve the station which Anne occupied in 
the King' ^ affections, was a task neither light nor enviable : she 
had to ent^r into all his pursuits, whether grave or gay ; to ma- 
nifest an interest iji his views and his wishes, however capricious 
or absurd; fbove all, she had to watch every thought, to rebut 
every scruple inimical to the progress of the reforming party. 
Her more agreeable occupations were to play and sing, to amuse 
his leisure hours ; sometimes, by her persuasive address, to entice 
his approbation of a liberal and enlightened work ; and some- 
times, by dint of flattery or tender importunity, it was perhaps 
her privilege to surprise him into a benevolent action or a gene- 
rous sentiment. Of herself, two opinions prevailed at this 
period : the one, that she was privately Henry's wife ; the other, 
that she had long been Henry's mistress. It should however 
be remembered, that the King's first object was to transmit the 
crown to his posterity; and that from the unnatural dislike 
which he appeared at this time to entertain against his daughter, 
the Princess Mary, he was more than ever anxious to secure 
the legitimate claims of any offspring with which he might 
hope to be blessed by Anne Boleyn. That he had long 
relinquished the hope, and even the wish, to induce Anne to 
listen to dishonourable proposals, must be evident to all, who, 
with an unprejudiced mind, have perused his correspondence; 
nor is it credible that, had she condescended to be his mistress, 
she would ever have been permitted to become his wife. 
To be crowned — to be proclaimed a queen, had long been the 
idol of her ambition ; was it possible she should tamely aban- 
don the object for which she had already sacrificed so much, at 
the moment when it was almost within her grasp ? But the 

90 



254 ANNE CREATED A MARCHIONESS. 

correspondence already referred to is sufficient to annihilate the 
suspicion. Henry was evidently so jealous of Anne's dignity, 
that he wished the Queen of Navarre to he included in the party 
at Boulogne; that whatever courtesy was shown "by Anne to the 
King of France, might he repaid by Margaret to the King of 
England. Is it credible that Henry would have exacted such 
homage for his mistress ? or that, at the moment when he most 
anxiously wished to conciliate the friendship of Francis, he 
should have offered this marked, deliberate insult to his beloved 
sister? But Henry's solicitude for Anne's dignity was not 
satisfied till, by an unprecedented step, he had advanced her to a 
rank, which entitled its possessor to familiar association with the 
most illustrious personages in Europe. This fortunate expedient 
was no other than to invest her with the rank and privileges of a 
marchioness ; a title rare and honourable in England, and never be- 
fore conferred on any unmarried female. The first of September 
was the day appointed, and Windsor Castle the scene chosen, for 
the celebration of this solemnity. Early in the morning, the King, 
who had just arrived from Amp thill, proceeded to the chamber of 
presence, attended by the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, several 
of the bishops and principal members of the privy council, and 
the French ambassadors. Here, surrounded by his courtiers, he 
took his place under the canopy of state : in the meanwhile, a 
procession of noblemen, walking two and two, heralded the ap- 
proach of Anne Boleyn. She was preceded by the beautiful 
Lady Mary Howard, on whose arm was suspended the furred 
mantle appropriate to her intended rank of peeress, whilst in her 
right hand she bore the precious coronet which formed the com- 
mon badge of nobility. The marchioness elect next appeared, 
leaning on two peeresses, the Countess of Rutland and the 



i 



THE CEREMONY. 255 

Countess dowager of Sussex. She was simply dressed in a cir- 
cote of cloth of gold, richly trimmed with crimson, and on her head 
wore no other coif than her own braided hair. In her train 
followed many ladies and gentlemen, habited with suitable 
magnificence. When she approached the throne, she suddenly 
paused and thrice courtesied, with the lowest obeisance; then, 
advancing nearer to her sovereign, knelt down ; her ladies as- 
sumed the same humble posture. The Garter at Arms then 
presented to the King a roll of parchment, which was by him 
delivered to Bishop Gardiner, who, in an audible voice, read the 
letters patent, in which, it was stated, that for her various 
excellent and transcendent accomplishments and virtues, Anne 
was created Marchioness of Pembroke. At the word investimusj 
the ladies all arose, and the King having first received from 
Anne's hands the mantle, restored it to her, and placed on her 
head the demi-circular coronet, eagerly anticipating the moment 
when it should be encircled with a regal diadem.* 

The ceremony being concluded, the King and his suite re- 
paired to the College ; where, after hearing mass, he ratified by a 
solemn oath the league with France, to which the French monarch 
was equally pledged by his ambassador. Monsieur Pomeroy : then 
was pronounced a Latin oration in j)raise of amity and concord ; 

^ " There were also delivered to her two several lettres patents ; one 
of her said creation, the other of a gift of a thousand pounds by year, 
to maintain her estate. 

" The Lady Marchioness gave unto Garter King of Amies for her 
apparell, 8Z. 

*' To the officers of arms, 11/. 135. M. 

*'And the King gave unto the officers of ai-ms, 5Z." 

Park's Edition of Waljyole's Royal and Nolle Authors. 



256 ANNE'S JEWELS. 

and^ finally, the engagement was consummated by a feast in the 
castle, to which no women were admitted. 

On becoming Marchioness of Pembroke, Anne had been pre- 
sented with a set of jewels* suitable to a princess, and provided 
with an establishment on a commensurate scale of magnificence. 
In her progress to Calais with Henry, she was accompanied by 
several ladies of the first quality ; who, since neither the wives 
nor the daughters of the nobility were included in the arrange- 
ments for the meeting, must have gone ostensibly as her personal 
attendants. f It was probably at this brilliant period of her 
existence, that Wiatt, beholding in Anne his future queen, ad- 

-^ In Strype's Cranmer, we have tlie following list of jewels, ex- 
tracted fi^oni the Records of the Jewel Office : — 

"One cai-keyne of gold antique works, having a shield of gold set 
with a great rose, containing twelve diamonds, one fair table diamond, 
one pointed diamond, one table ruby, and three fair hanging pearls ; 
another carcanet of gold, with two hands holding a great owche of gold, 
set with a great table balasse, one pointed diamond, two table dia- 
monds, one rising with lozenges, the other flat, and one other long- 
lozenged diamond, four hanging pearls ; a thin carkeyne of gold 
enamelled with black and white, with an owche of gold enamelled 
white and blue, set with a great rocky ruby, one rocky emerald, one 
pointed diamond, one table diamond ; a harte of a diamond, rising fall 
of lozenges, and one fair hanging pearl ; to these were added three 
other carkeynes equally magnificent ; also for an ornament, St. George 
on horseback, garnished with sixteen small diamonds, and in the belly 
of the dragon a rocky pearl ; to another carkeyne of gold, a similar 
ornament was appended ; to these were added a chain of the Spanish 
fashion, enamelled white, red, and black. Sent unto the King's high- 
ness from Greenwich to Hampton Court by Master Norris, the 21st of 
September, in the twenty-fourth year of his reign." 

t See Hall. 



TRIBUTE TO ANNE BY WIATT. 257 

dressed to lier tlie following elegant and tender lines, with which, 
even as a stateswoman, she could not hut he touched and gra- 
tified : — 

Forget not yet the tried intent 

Of such a truth as I have meant ; 

My great travail so gladly spent, 

Forget not yet. 

Forget not yet, when first began, 

The weary life, ye know — since whan 
The suit, the service, none tell can ; 
Forget not yet. 

Forget not yet the great assays, 

The cruel wrong, the scornful ways, 
The painful patience and delays. 
Forget not yet. 

Forget not, oh ! forget not this, 

How long ago hath been, and is, 
The mind that never meant amiss. 
Forget not yet. 

Forget not thine own approved, 

The which so long hath thee so loved, 
Whose stedfast faith yet never moved ; 
Forget not this. 

Although it can scarcely he suspected that Wiatt seriously 
cherished for Anne a warmer sentiment than friendship, it was 
perhaps not without some painful solicitude that he witnessed, 
during the expedition to Calais, her assumption of royal state, 
such as could alone be proper in the acknowledged wife of his 
sovereign. In a sonnet written at this period, he alludes to the 
royal chains appended to her neck, by which she was designated 
22 * 



258 HENRY VISITS FRANCE. 

as belonging to Csesar. It might, however, afford some gratifi- 
cation to his pride or delicacy, that she remained with decorous 
privacy in the Exchequer, in which she had been lodged with 
the other ladies, whilst the King, attended by the Dukes of Nor- 
folk and Suffolk, and the prime of his nobility, proceeded to 
Boulogne, where Francis, in like manner, accompanied by the 
King of Navarre, his three sons, and the princes of the blood, 
awaited his approach. The present meeting was formed under 
auspices far different from those which had presided at their 
former interview, in the celebrated Field of Gold. Although 
both monarchs were still in the vigour or life, time had wrought 
in them some alterations, perceptible to the most superficial ob- 
server. The symmetry of Henry's form was already impaired 
by corpulence ; the vigorous constitution of Francis broken by 
alternatives of hardship and indulgence, resulting from his mis- 
fortunes or his misconduct. Accustomed to contend with noble 
foes, or to grapple with substantial difficulties, these princes aban- 
doned to others the puerile trophies of the tilting-field, but still 
retained their original fondness for pomp and splendour ; and 
when they met between Calais and Boulogne, the competition in 
jewels and cloths of gold between themselves and their lords 
was still apparent. In elegance of manners Francis was confess- 
edly without a rival ; and to their usual fascination was now 
added the elegance of genuine emotion. When clasping Henry 
to his breast, he exclaimed, ^^ Sir, you are the person I am most 
bound to in the world ; and for the friendship I have received, 
I beg you to take me as yours.'' Henry replied in a suitable 
strain of cordiality ; and they proceeded towards Boulogne, when, 
to beguile the wa};^, the hawks were loosed, and both the French 
and English lords eagerly partook of this pastime. As they 



HIS MEETING WITH FRANCIS I. 259 

approached the town, they descried on the hill a body of five 
hundred cavalierS; who immediately descended to salute the Eng- 
lish party. At the head of this chosen band, were the three 
eldest sons of Francis, whom he presented to Henry, with these 
wovc's : " My children, you are no less bound to this Prince than 
to me, your natural father ; for he redeemed me and you from 
captivity." Henry embraced the youths with the warmest ex- 
pressions of attachment ; and the remainder of this day, like 
many which succeeded, was spent, both by French and English, 
in festivity and harmony. But with these convivial pleasures, 
the two kings intermingled political and theological discussions. 
It was the aim of Henry to induce Francis to sanction, by ex- 
ample, his own renunciation of papal authority; but to this 
step the King of France evinced insuperable repugnance, al- 
though he heartily concurred in the propriety of the divorce, and 
the expediency of the projected marriage. During these pri- 
vate conferences, Anne Boleyn might have often trembled lest 
the friendly dispositions of Francis should be counteracted by 
his arguments; and it must have been a seasonable relief to 
her anxiety, when the English monarch led back the French 
prince to Calais, where her personal influence would turn the 
balance in her favour. As the Queen of Navarre had not ac- 
cepted the King of England's invitation, Anne remained in 
seclusion during the visit of the French monarch ; but on the 
Sunday, when Henry gave a sumptuous feast to the royal party, 
she devised a masque in the French style, to heighten the enter- 
tainment. At the close of the supper, at which both monarchs 
had been regaled with choice viands and exquisite wines, the 
doors were thrown open, when the marchioness, followed by 
seven ladies, all masked, and habited in cloth of gold, entered 



260 MARKIAGE OF HENRY AND ANNE. 

tlie apartment; attended by four damsels, attired in crimson satin ; 
tlie marchioness immediately challenged the French King to 
dance ; whilst the Countess of Derby selected the King of Na- 
varre; every other lady chose a lord, and the dance began, of 
which Henry remained a passive spectator, till, plucking from 
each fair dame her vizor, he introduced the ladies to their ad- 
miring partners, and Francis discovered that he had been dancing 
with Anne Boleyn, whom he had never seen since she quitted 
his court, a giddy, volatile girl, of all human beings the least 
likely to become the consort of a great monarch. After mutual 
compliments, Francis gallantly pressed on her acceptance a jewel, 
worth fifteen thousand livres, and immediately bade her fare- 
well. Henry attended him to his lodging, where the two Kings 
took leave with sentiments of real cordiality, far different from 
those specious professions of gallantry with which ^they had, 
twelve years before, amused themselves and their respective 
courts. On the following morning, Francis returned to Bou- 
logne ; and, a few days after, the English monarch and his suite 
re-embarked for England, fully resolved to espouse the woman 
who had so long possessed his affections : but it is a curious fact, 
that there is no point of history more uncertain than the precise 
period at which the marriage actually took place. By many of 
the chroniclers, and some of our best historians, it is fixed on 
the very day on which Henry and Anne landed at Dover ; but, 
if concealment were the object, it should seem more likely that 
it had been performed at Calais : by other authorities the cere- 
mony is deferred to the first of January, when it is stated to 
have been privately performed by Dr. Lee, in the presence of 
the Earl and Countess of Wiltshire, and two or three other con- 



THE DIVORCE FROM CATHERINE. 2G1 

j&dential friends. According to either opinion,* tlic marriage 
must have been solemnized previous to the sentence of divorce 
definitively pronounced against Catherine. 

By the authority of the convocation, an episcopal court was 
convened at Dunstable, in the vicinity of Catherine's residence,f 
to which she was once more cited ; on not answering the citation 
she was declared contumacious, and the long-suspended sentence 
of divorce finally pronounced by Cranmer. 

By the reforming party this decisive measure was hailed as 
auspicious of future triumph, and whatever sympathy might be 
awakened by Catherine's unmerited degradation, the popularity 
of the King's late administration was such as to silence or over- 
j^ower the murmurs of discontent. In the council, much dissen- 
sion prevailed on this subject. Gardiner temporized; Cromwel 
and Cranmer exulted; the Duke of Norfolk secretly deprecated 
the consequences that might ensue to the Boman party : and 
Sir Thomas More, although he had cordially concurred in the 
first steps against the national clergy, anticipating from the pre- 
sent measure a total separation from the church of Bome, 
resigned the great seal, which was immediately transferred to 
Sir Thomas Audley. Every obstacle to his wishes being re- 
moved, the King caused a proclamation to be issued on Easter- 
even, for the coronation of his beloved wife, Queen Anne; and 
letters were sent to the Mayor and other municipal officers, 
directing them to conduct his consort, with the accustomed cere- 
monies, from Greenwich to the Tower, and " to see the city gar- 
nished with pageants, according to ancient custom, for her re- 

* In Wiatt's Life of Queen Anne Rolen, it is decidedly stated to have 
been solemnized on tlic first of .Tannnry. 
f At Ampthill. 



262 ANNE'S CORONATION. 

ception/'' Whatever difference of opinion existed respecting 
the marriage, a general sensation of interest was created by the 
coronation; a ceremony indispensably necessary to efface the 
impressions produced by the ambiguity of Anne's former posi- 
tion, and to secure, by a solemn national act, the legitimacy of 
her future offspring. The coronation of a Queen-consort, was 
a spectacle of which the novelty was well calculated to attract 
attention. Half a century had revolved since Henry the Seventh 
of Lancaster reluctantly permitted this tribute of respect to 
be offered to the amiable Elizabeth Plantagenet. An interval 
of twenty-three years had elapsed, since Henry the Eighth had 
been crowned with his now rejected Catherine ; and although 
the present ceremony was perhaps not entitled to the same 
magnificence which had been displayed on that occasion, 
it might aspire to even superior elegance and taste, since 
its object was a woman in the prime of youth and beauty, 
the history of whose romantic fortunes had been the familiar 
theme of conversation to every country in Europe ; for whose 
exaltation a part of the national system had actually been sub- 
verted; or rather, perhaps, by whose ambition a vestige of 
national independence had been restored. The prelude of this 
solemnity, which on Whit-Sunday was to be concluded, com- 
menced on the Thursday in Easter-week, with the ceremony of 
conducting the Queen from Greenwich to the Tower of London ; 
a spectacle not only offering the attraction of picturesque beauty, 
but equally calculated to gratify patriotic feeling and to captivate 
the imagination. At three o'clock the civic fleet of fifty barges, 
representing the various commercial companies* of London, was 

■^ Many of the mottoes appended to tlieir respective flags, conveyed 
religious sentiments favourable to the school of Wickliflfe or Luther. 



ANNE'S CORONATION. 263 

in readiness for the Queen's embarkation. The awnings were 
of cloth of gold, or silk, emblazoned with the arms of England, 
and ornamented with various curious pageants, among which 
the Queen's appropriate device of a falcon was eminently con- 
spicuous.* Next to the Mayor's boat, and in a manner committed 
to his tutelary protection, appeared the royal barge, in which, 
superbly attired in cloth of gold, sat Anne, surrounded by her 
obsequious ladies. A hundred barges belonging to the nobility fol- 
lowed, magnificently ornamented with silk or cloth of gold, gliding 
on in harmonious order to measured strains of music. Innumera- 
ble streamers waved in the wind, to which were attached bells, 
floating on the air with responsive melody. The river was 
covered with boats ; the shores were lined with spectators ; and 
it might have been supposed that London was deserted of its 
inhabitants, but for the innumerable multitudes collected near 
the Tower to witness the Queen's disembarkation. Never, since 
the birth of her ambitious hopes, had Anne experienced such 
exquisite gratification ; and never, perhaps, was she destined 
to realize another day of genuine felicity ! The regal diadem 
to which she had so long aspired — that phantom of greatness, 
to which she had sacrificed the brilliant hours, of youth, the 
purest sources of happiness — was now secured to her possession. 
The little interval of time that was yet to intervene before the 
crown should actually be placed on her head, gave to this ante- 

Of the Grocers' (incorportrated under Edward the Third), the motto 
•was, "God grant grace;" of the Fishmongers', (Henry the Eighth), 
"All -worship be to God only;" the Goldsmiths' (Richard the Second), 
"To God only be all glory;" of the Clothworkers' (Hem-y the Eighth), 
" My trust is in God alone." 

* In one of the boats was a mount on which sat virgins melodiously 
singing, in honour of the new Queen. 



264 ANNE'S CORONATION. 

taste of sovereignty a peculiar zest of enjoyment ; and, without 
feeling the pressure of royal care, she gloried in the splendour, 
she reposed in the consciousness of supreme pre-eminence. The 
desire of pleasing had hitherto exposed her to censure ; but 
vanity assumed the character of benevolence in a Queen whose 
looks, and even whose gestures, were watched with impassioned 
devotion, and who sought by winning smiles and gracious lan- 
guage, not only to inspire enthusiasm, but to impart delight. 
On this day, at least, she might indulge the hope, that she was 
the object of a sympathy more unequivocally flattering than 
the most adulatory homage. Her approach to the Tower 
was heralded by a discharge of artillery, "the like whereof,^^ 
says Hall, " was never heard before ;'' which was lost amidst 
the shouts, and answered by the spontaneous acclamations of 
the people. 

Among the assembled multitude, there were, perhaps, few who 
quitted the scene indifferent to the future welfare of the woman, 
who had that day been the object of universal curiosity and 
attention : such is the interest excited by situations of enterprise 
and danger, and so grateful to the mind is the contemplation of , 
those rare achievements, of which the unexpected success seems, 
by a felicitous experiment, to extend the ordinary limits of 
human destiny. 

On the succeeding Saturday Anne went in procession through 
the streets of London, borne in a litter, magnificently arrayed, 
and unveiled to public view, precisely as, nineteen years before, 
Mary Queen of France had made her triumphal entry through 
the streets of Paris. On Whit-Sunday the spectacle closed with 
the most imposing, though least elegant part of the ceremony, 
the actual coronation. 



THE PROCESSION TO THE CHURCH. 265 

Anne was led to the church in gorgeous state ; her train borne 
by the aged Duchess of Norfolk, and the Archbishops of York 
and Canterbury; whilst she herself leaned for support on the 
arm of her father, to whose prudence and vigilance, even more 
than to her own personal attractions, she was indebted for her 
extraordinary elevation. In her train followed peers and peer- 
esses, knights, commoners, and gentlewomen : to the practised eye 
the rank of each lady was designated by the powdered border that 
embellished the mantle or robe ; and whilst the wife or daugh- 
ter of a peer wore over a circot of scarlet a mantle fringed with 
ermine, the knight's consort was simply attired in a short gown, 
her shoulders unencumbered with the gorgeous trappings of 
nobility. After a variety of tedious forms and ceremonies,* the 
heavy sceptre was placed in one hand, and the ivory globe in 
the other; at the conclusion of the last anthem Anne gladly 
resigned St. Edward's ponderous crown for a less oppressive dia- 
dem, and no sooner was it placed on her head, than at the same 
instant each marchioness put on her crescent, wrought with 
flowers, each countess assumed her plain coronet, and every king 
at arms exhibited the broad gilt crown, with which, during that 
day at least, he was permitted to sustain his part in monarchical 
pageantry ; finally, amidst these reflected images of regality, the 
new Queen withdrew under a gorgeous canopy, borne by the 
four Cinque Barons, with all the dignity and self-possession that 
became a queen. But the spectacle was not concluded ; Anne 
had to sit under the cloth of estate during the livelong feast, of 
which each course was heralded by trumpets, whilst the most 
illustrious peers of England performed the duties of domestic 

* For a more minute account of the ceremony, see the extract from 

Stow at the end of the volume. 
23 



266 THE HIPPOCRAS, 

attendants. At tlie close of the repast she rose, and; with an 
air of mingled majesty and sweetness, advanced to the middle 
of the hall, where the Mayor, according to ancient custom, pre- 
sented to her the hippocras in a cup of gold, which, having raised 
to her lips, she returned to him with a graceful compliment, 
and left the hall, to receive the more cordial congratulations of 
her enamoured hushand, who, accompanied by the French am«- 
bassadors, had taken his station at the window of an apartment 
adjoining the hall, from whence he had commanded a full view 
of the ceremony. 

With whatever pride or pleasure he might have contemplated 
Anne's triumph, it was impossible he should have entirely ex- 
cluded the recollection of that memorable two-and-twentieth of 
June, when he and the now rejected Catherine had been crowned 
together. He missed the presence of his beloved sister Mary, 
already languishing of a disease which was destined to prove 
mortal ; and, amidst the gayeties of this hymeneal triumph, must 
have been painfully reminded that he had himself approached 
the autumnal season of existence. 

To the Earl and Countess of Wiltshire this day of triumph 
could not but awaken some correspondent fears. Experience 
had taught them to distrust the constancy of Henry's affections, 
and to dread the effects of his resentment. They had seen their 
daughter raised to a pinnacle of greatness ; but her fate depended 
on his caprice : the breath of his displeasure would precipitate 
her to destruction. 

In Anne herself, the event of the day must have inspired 
some serious thoughts to chasten and depress her former exulta- 
tion. 

From the establishment of the Norman dynasty, no private 



ANNE'S RESOLUTION. 267 

gentlewoman, before Elizabeth Woodville, had been permitted to 
ascend the throne.* With that solitary example were associated 
the mournful and appalling images of two murdered sons, a 
neglected daughter, and, most terrible of all, the dreary prison 
in which the once idolized Queen had been condemned to drag 
out the last period of life, the victim of Henry of Richmond's 
suspicious tyranny. The contemplation of such a picture might 
have awed and subdued a temper less ardent, a spirit less en- 
thusiastic ; but to Anne Boleyn it lent a desperate resolution, 
and she resolved to live or die as became a queen ; to win the 
affections and command the respect of the people. 

* Elizabeth died in the Abbey of Bermondsey, to which she had 
been confined by her son-in-law, Henry the Seventh. 



CHAPTER YIII. 

SEQUEL OF THE HISTORY OF QUEEN ANNE BOLEYN. 

Cares of Royalty — The Duke of Norfolk — The Duchess — Anne's Attend- 
ants — Gardiner — Luther — Designs of the Reformers — Transubstan- 
tiation — Latimer — The Court — Birth of the Princess Elizabeth — The 
Christening — Elizabeth's Household — Sources of Chagrin — The Nun 
of Rocking — Fate of Fisher and More — Plenry's Theology — Anne's 
Protection of Protestants — Mission to Germany — Hopes of an Heir — 
Diminution of Henry's Affection — Jane Seymour — Catherine's Death 
— Discovery of Jane's Intrigue by Anne — Hlness of Anne — Designs 
of Henry — His Spies — Lady Rochford — Anne's Charities — Norris and 
Weston — Calumnies — Troubles of Anne — The King's Policy — The 
Fatal Tournament — Arrest of Westmoreland and Norris — Anne 
arrested — Committed to the Tower — Her Deportment in Prison — 
Her Attendants — Her Answer to Henry's demand of a Confession — 
Her last Letter to the King — Her subsequent Deportment — The Judi- 
cial Court — The Trial — The Sentence — Anne's Address to the Duke 
of Norfolk — Cause of her Condemnation — Her Conduct after Con- 
demnation — Her intercession for the Princess Elizabeth — Her Con- 
versation with Kingston — Her Execution — Injustice of the Sentence. 

In ardent minds, the aspirations of ambition are often asso- 
ciated with the amiable sympathies of benevolence, the love of 
power becomes identified with the love of virtue, and beautiful 
images of felicity are blended with romantic and magnificent 
illusions of glory. In ascending the throne, Anne appears to 
have expected that such dreams of youthful fancy were to be 
realized : her first impulse was to exalt her family, and to dis- 
pense all the goods of fortune to her most remote connections ; 



CARES OF ROYALTY. 269 

ber ncxt^ to justify the confidence reposed in her efforts by the 
reformers; from all eyes, all hearts, to receive spontaneous 
homage ; to reign in the affections of her husband and his 
people ; — these were the objects for which she had so long sub- 
mitted to voluntary penance and privation, and for these she 
exulted in possessing a crown. A short time was sufficient to 
prove to her the fallacy of these expectations. After the first 
few days devoted to festivity and congratulation,* she became 
sensible of the onerous duties attached to pre-eminence. In 
regal state, the gratification of novelty was soon exhausted ; its 
constraint continued ; its cares redoubled. The weight of St. 
Edward's crown, of which she had felt the momentary pressure 
on the memorable day of coronation, was every day experienced, 
unaccompanied by .those emotions of joy and complacency which 
it originally created. 

Independent of the anxiety, the doubts, the diffidence, with 
which she must have watched the fluctuations of Henry's capri- 
cious fancy, she had a constant source of uneasiness in the dis- 
cordant views which prevailed among her nearest connections. 
Whilst the Countess of Wiltshire coalesced with the Howards, 
in whose hereditary pride she participated, the earl regarded with 
distrust and aversion the Duke of Norfolk, who repined that his 
own daughter, the beautiful Lady Mary, or at least some rela- 

^ At one of those civic feasts to which Henry condescended to ac- 
company his bride was introduced the elegant novelty of a lemon, a 
luxury hitherto unknown to an English table. To an epicure, such as 
Henry, perhaps the acquisition of a castle in France would have been 
less acceptable ; and such was the importance attached to the dis- 
covery, that, in a bill belonging to the Leathersellers' Company, it was 
recorded that this royal lemon cost six silver pennies. 
2.3 * 



270 DUCHESS OF NORFOLK. 

tive of the name of Howard^ liad not Ibeen elevated to the throne. 
Insensible to the kindness with which Anne employed her in- 
fluence to promote the union of Lady Mary with the Duke of 
Kichmond^ whom the King once intended to include in the suc- 
cession, he artfully coalesced with Gardiner, the determined 
enemy of Lutheraijism ; not without the hope that, like another 
Wolsey, he should acquire unbounded influence in the King's 
counsels. As the brother-in-law of Henry the Seventh, he 
spurned the title of the Queen's uncle, but passionately desired 
to become the despotic minister of his sovereign. On his part, 
the Earl of Wiltshire was mortified at the preference shown to 
the Duke of Norfolk; as the King's father-in-law, he had, per- 
haps, expected a ducal coronet, or some signal mark of royal 
favour. Prudence might keep him silent ; but his chagrin could 
not but be visible to his daughter, when he resigned his public 
employments, and retired from public life. With the Earl of 
Surrey Anne lived in cordial friendship, and was apparently 
idolized by his beautiful sister ; but little reliance could be placed 
in the sincerity of this lady, who, some years after, with un- 
blushing perfidy, furnished the evidence, however frivolous, on 
which her brother was convicted of treason. With Elizabeth,* 

* The Duchess lived in Hertfordshire, on a stipend of three hundred 
marks per annum ; but she was destined for trials more severe than 
indigence and neglect, or even injustice. Slie saw her gallant son de- 
voted to death ; her unnatural daughter conspire against a brother's 
life ; whilst her ungrateful husband survived a long imprisonment, to 
die in peace and honour under the auspices of his congenial kinswoman 
Queen Mary. The remains of this unfortunate woman were consigned 
to the magnificent mausoleum of the Howards, at Lambeth; and it 
seemed the consummation of her wretched destiny, that even her 



DUCHESS OF NORFOLK. 271 

Duchess of Norfolk, the ill-fated daughter of the Duke of 
Buckingham, Anne could have had no intercourse, since she was 
supplanted in her husband's affections, and driven from his 
house by injurious treatment. Of all her domestic connections, 
the individual most endeared to her heart was George Boleyn 
Lord Rochford : but even this fraternal friendship was embit- 
tered by his wife, from whom she had received repeated proofs 
of aversion and hostility. With a true sense of dignity, she 
scorned, as a queen, to resent the injuries offered to Anne Bo- 
leyn ; for her brother's sake, she permitted even her ancient 
enemy to be one of the ladies of her bedchamber ; and, by this 

dust should be mingled with that of her enemies and persecutors ; but 
her tomb was insulated ; and the following epitaph, written by her 
brother, Henry Lord Stafford, commemorates her virtues; 

"Farewell good lady, and sister dear, 

lu earth we shall never meet here ; 

But yet I trust, with Godis grace, 

In Heaven we shall deserve a place. 

Yet thy kindness shall never depart, 

During my life, out of my heart: 

Thou art to me, both far and near, 

A brother, a sistei', a friend most dear. 

And to all thy friends most near and fast 

When fortune sounded his froward blast. 

And to the poor a very mother, 

More than was known to any other; 

Which is thy treasure now at this day. 

And for thy soul they heartily pray. 

So shall I do, that here remain ; — 

God preserve thy soul from pain. 

Ily thy most boundeu Brother, 

Henry Lord Stafford." 
Aubrey's History of Lambeth. 



272 ANNE'S ATTENDANTS. 

fatal generosity, eventually furnished the opportunity, so long 
desired, of accelerating her own ruin. With the same liberal 
spirit she recalled her aunt. Lady Edward Boleyn, to the place 
she had occupied under Catherine, although of all women she 
appears to have been the least congenial to her tastes and feel- 
ings. With Wiatt, now promoted to the office of ewerer of the 
royal household, she no longer permitted any familiar intercourse, 
and in this instance her prudence appears to have been repaid 
with gratitude and honour : she continued, however, to admire 
and patronize his talents, and was, perhaps, still unconsciously 
the muse that inspired his happiest effusions ; whilst his sister, 
Mrs. Margaret Lee,* a woman of irreproachable character, be- 
came one of her chosen and confidential attendants. Amongst 
the other ladies of her establishment, were the Countesses of 
Worcester and Oxford, women of unsullied fame, whose presence 
seemed to guaranty the honour and discretion of their mistress. 
An extreme susceptibility to praise was, perhaps, the vulne- 
rable point of Anne's character, and that by which she was fre- 
quently exposed to pain and disappointment. Within the first 
month of her triumph, at the moment when, t'^ undiscerning 
eyes, she seemed to have reached the pinnacle 'of felicity, she 
was humbled by a poor Franciscan friar, who, in Henry's chapel 
at Greenwich, and even in his presence, intrepidly denounced 
his dereliction of faith to Gl .^^, and audaciously compared 
him to the wicked Ahab. Henry listened with composure, and 
quietly admonished the friar to retract : he persisted, and was 
supported by other monks of his fraternity. Henry affected to 
smile at their vehemence ; but the monastery was suppressed, 
and all the brothers of the community were banished. 

* Nott's Life of Wiatt. 



LUTHER. 273 

On another occasion, Anne had to experience a more painful 
mortification— that of disappointing the hopes attributed to her 
influence. She was notoriously at the head of the reformers, 
and delighted to believe that she was really destined to watch, 
like a tutelary angel, over that oppressed party. Experience 
soon showed the fallacy of this expectation; when, by the arti- 
fices of Gardiner, a young man of parts and learning, and of 
exemplary conduct, was sacrificed to clear the King's character 
from the imputation of heretical apostasy. To explain this cir- 
cumstance, it is necessary briefly to remark the little progress 
hitherto made by the new doctrines in England. 
- To the cultivated mind nothing is more delightful than to 
measure, with the strength of potentates, and the trophies of 
conquerors, those auspicious changes in the moral aspect of 
society, of which a solitary individual is sometimes permitted to 
become the agent : such an example is presented by Luther, who, 
in sixteen years, by the force of mental energy alone, had im- 
parted a new character to a large part of Europe. Whilst three 
successive Popes preached a crusade against the enemies of 
Christendom, this champion of free inquiry denounced the errora 
and corruptione of Christianity. When the two great rival 
monarchs of France and Spain lavished blood and treasure on 
frivolous objects, of which no vestige now remains but in the 
records of human misery, the. ,rated monk presented to his 

countrymen a translation of the Scriptures; and thus for ever 
abolished that mental vassalage, in which a small privileged 
class had hitherto held the great mass of mankind. In England 
the progress of Luther's principles was neither rapid nor decisive. 
The clergy strenuously resisted the importation of an English 
Bible, without which it was obvious no radical changes irthe 
system of superstition could be efiected. 



274 DESIGNS OF THE REFORMERS. 



At this period tlie Englisli reformers miglit be divided into 
two classes^ of wliich the first and most important derived their 
opinions from Wickliffe^ rather than Luther. Of these old 
English patriots, it appears to have been the first object to abo- 
lish papal supremacy, and the next to circumscribe the power 
of the clergy, for whose prerogative or emolument the usages of 
penance, purgatory, pilgrimage, and other anile supersitions were 
obviously perpetuated. From the commencement of his reign, 
Henry had participated in the contempt of the reformers for 
monastic communities, and cordially concurred in Wolsey's plan 
of suppressing the inferior monasteries, and establishing in their 
place schools and colleges for the regeneration of the clergy.* 

Although he had started against Luther as the champion of 
Rome, he was jealous of the encroachments of the Anglican 
church, and eagerly embraced every occasion for checking their 
rapacity and presumption. With these prepossessions in favour 
of Cromwel's measures, he willingly listened to his proposal of 
augmenting the royal revenue, by the sacrifice of ecclesiastical 
establishments; but his prejudices to Lutheranism remained 
unaltered; nor, with the exception, perhaps, of Anne Boleyn 
and Cranmer, does it appear that Wiatt, or Brandon, or any of 
the ministerial reformers, had hitherto extended their views beyond 
the abolition of papal jurisdiction, and the retrenchment of those 
ecclesiastical privileges maintained and fostered by popular super- 

"^ In 1512, the decline of conventual establishments was already- 
perceptible ; when a pious layman, who proposed to appropriate a 
certain fund for the erection of a monastery, was dissuaded from it by- 
Bishop Fox, who recommended to him rather to institute schools for 
the instruction of youth, than to multiply nurseries of sloth and sen- 
Buality. 



DESIGNS OF THE REFORMERS. 275 

stitioii, which affected the higher rather than the lower orders 
of society. Sensible that this pernicious empire was founded on 
ignorance and credulity,* they secretly encouraged the circulation 

* The priestcraft employed appears to have been precisely such as, 
tm lately, existed in kll Catholic countries, and consisted of pretensions 
to miraculous relics, and other preternatural agencies. Four times 
every year was pronounced a curse against certain offences. The ser- 
mons were sometimes plain, practical discourses, but frequently inter- 
larded with legends calculated to nourish a servile devotion to the 
priests. In a sermon against irreverence, is introduced an anecdote 
of St. Austin, who, "having found two women prating together, saw 
that the Fiend sat in their necks, writing on a great roll what the 
women said ; and letting it fall, Austin went and took it up, and having 
asked the women what they talked, they said their Paternoster^ then 
Austin read the roll, and there was never a good word in it." In a 
sermon on burying the dead, the following anecdotes were given of 
spirits :— " Many walk on nights, when buried in holy place ; but that 
is not long of the Fiend, but the grace of God to get them help : and 
some be guilty, and have no rest. Four men stole an Abbot's ox to 
their larder ; the Abbot did a sentence, and cursed them : so three of 
them were shriven, and asked mercy; the fourth died, and was not 
assoiled, and had not forgiveness ; so when he was dead, the spirit 
went by night and feared all the people about, that none durst walk 
after sun-down. Then, as the parish priest went a-night with God's 
body to housel a sick man, this spirit went with him, and told him 
what he was, and why he walked, and prayed the priest to go to his 
wife that they should go both to the Abbot, to make him amends for 
the trespass, and go to assoil him, for he might have no rest : and anon 
the Abbot assoiled him, and he went to rest and joy for evermore." 
The drift of such discourses was obviously to keep the people in igno- 
rance and subjection to the will of their priests. The people were also 
told, that "lewd men and women to dispute of this sacrament are 
utterly forbidden ; for it is enough for them to believe as holy church 
teacheth." 



276 . PERSECUTION. 

of the ScriptureS; and of other tracts calculated to enlighten the 
people. Several enterprising merchants co-operated in this un- 
dertaking; the bishops took the alarm; and on the pretext that 
it was a heretical translation, TindalFs Bible was denounced, and 
all who could be convicted of promoting its circulation prosecuted 
with unrelenting rigour.* The most dreadful demoralization 

* Wolsey, though not always disposed to second prelatical zeal 
against heretics, concurred in the persecution of Tindall and his ad- 
herents. Bishop Tonstall, with more good-nature than judgment, 
thought to remove the evil by buying up all the remaining copies of 
the English Bible, by which means he enabled the reformers to put 
forth another edition. Sir Thomas More pursued a far different course 
from Tonstall. Not having Wolsey's motives for counteracting the 
Anglican clergy, he called on the bishops to extirpate heresies and 
punish heretics, and enforced the penal laws against them. In the 
bishops' courts cognisance was taken of many delinquents, on the charge 
of having taught their children the Lord's Prayer in English ; for 
having read forbidden books ; or, in conversation, expressed contempt 
for such observances as penance and pilgrimage, the worshipping of 
gaints and images : of these, the majority abjured from terror, and 
were thus taught to practise deception and hypocrisy. During More's 
administration, Hilton, Bilney, Byfield, and Bainham were committed 
to the flames. Indulgence was leased for forty days to any who would 
bring a faggot to aid in destroying a heretic. 

Sir Thomas More is said to have once spared a heretic for a bon mot. 
In examining a refractory Lutheran, whose name was Silver, the Chan- 
cellor reminded him, in allusion to his death, that silver must be tried 
in the fire: — "Ay," cried the culprit, "but quicksilver will not 
abide it." 

This is not the only instance in which a species of punning or quib- 
bling obtained special favour. In an insurrection, which the Duke of 
Suffolk had been sent to quell, in 1525, having defeated the insurgents, 
he demanded to see their captain; on which one of the ringleaders 



TRANSUBSTANTIATION. 277 

was produced by these severities :* husbands betrayed their 
wives ; unnatural children conspired against the existence of their 
parents ; friends and brothers became spies and informers ; truth 
and integrity were banished from domestic society, and those 
flagitious crimes, by cupidity and ambition fostered in a court, 
were transplanted to the lower walks of life, where they seemed 
likely to destroy every vestige of genuine piety and national 
honour. Hitherto the doctrine of transubstantiation had been 
little agitated, either because the Lutherans had been counter- 
acted by the want of general information, or that the practical 
and oppressive evils resulting from the existing system super- 
seded all other considerations. In certain minds of a more re- 
flective cast, these abstruse subjects of speculation began, how- 
ever, to occupy attention; but it is remarkable that Frith, 
although he had plunged deeply into theology, and rejected the 
doctrine of transubstantiation, continued to deprecate all public 
controversies on the subject, and was alone induced, by the 
solicitations of certain religious friends, to commit to paper those 
well-digested arguments which formed the grounds of his inter- 
nal convictions. Carelessness or treachery led to their publica- 
tion; and Frith, who, from motives of humanity, might have 
hesitated to proclaim his tenets at this perilous crisis, felt him- 
self imperatively bound by honour to defend them ; and, after a 
manly vindication of their truth, sealed his faith with the crown 
of martyrdom. 

boldly answered, — '' Our captain is necessity, a,nd poverty is our com- 
rade." The Duke felt the truth of the sentiment, and the -wretched 
vagrants found mercy. 
* See Strype, Collier, &c. 
24 



278 ^^M LATIMER. 

Although Anne appears to have been uniformly opposed to 
persecution^ she was in this instance counteracted by Gardiner, 
and by the King's pertinacious zeal for the Catholic church. 
But if Anne was not permitted to rescue Frith, she had soon 
after the happiness to achieve the deliverance of the celebrated 
Hugh Latimer, who, from a persecutor, was become a champion 
of the new sect, and, with characteristic zeal, now defended those 
principles he had formerly condemned. His apostasy excited 
alarm ; and, in the depth of winter, he was summoned from his 
vicarage to answer for his innovation before Stokesly, Bishop of 
London, by whose authority he was committed to prison. Alone 
and unprotected, Latimer was now the devoted victim of bigotry 
and malice; but Anne's humanity became his advocate. In the 
full tide of fortune and felicity, she watched over the safety of one, 
of whom she only knew that he dared to preach as he believed, 
and to practise what he preached. Lnpressed with her solicitations, 
the King interposed, and the pastor was restored to life and 
liberty. Anxious to see and hear the preacher so celebrated 
for the force and pathos of his eloquence, the Queen had but 
to intimate her wish, and it was gratified. But it was with the 
firmness and simplicity of an apostle that Latimer came to court, 
not to flatter, but to admonish or reprove ; to expose the vanity 
of human expectations ; to exalt the dignity and importance of 
the relative duties, and to call the mind to the awful contempla- 
tion of eternity. Anne received with docility, or rather, perhaps, 
imbibed with enthusiasm, the lessons of her austere monitor ; 
and, with the earnestness that marks sincerity, entreated him 
to point out whatever appeared amiss in her conduct and deport- 
ment. Latimer replied not as a courtier but as a sage, who 
despised the blandishments of women, and had long been insen- 



LATIMER. 279 

sible to the influence of beauty ; he seriously exhorted the Queen 
to inculcate the duties of morality and piety on her attendants, 
and strenuously to enforce her precepts by example."^ 

In lending protection to Latimer, Anne might be prompted 
by compassion, or' enthusiasm, or even that love of popularity 
which appears to have been her ruling passion; but the esteem 
and attachment she afterwards manifested for this rigid teacher, 
bespeaks a strength of character, and indicates capacities for 
thinking and feeling, never to be found in an ordinary mind ; 
nor would it be candid to refer to policy alone a conduct evidently 
arising from purer motives and nobler sentiments. But it may 
be asked, why it should appear incredible, that Anne was really 
penetrated by the force of those arguments to which she listened 
with reverence ? Kaised to the summit of human greatness, 
fatigued with the cares, and, perhaps, even cloyed with the plea- 
sures of ambition, why should she not at length seek happiness or 
tranquillity, where only they are to be found, in the fiiithful 
discharge of moral and religious duties ? 

Under the auspices of Latimer, a striking change was effected 
in the exterior of Anne's court : habits of industry and applica- 
tion were introduced ; the Queen not only assisted in the tapes- 
try, which afterwards embellished Hampton Court, f but, by her 

* See Strype, Fox, and Gilpin's Life of Latimer. 

t "Those that have seen, at Hampton Court, the rich and exquisite 
works, for the greater part wrought by her own hand and needle, and 
also of her ladies, esteem them the most pretious furniture, that are 
to be accounted amongst the most sumptuous that any prince might be 
possessed of; and yet far more rich and pretious were those works in 
the sight of God, which she caused her maidens, and those about her, 
daily to vroork, in shirts and smocks for the poorc ; but not staying here, 



280 THE COURT. 

own example^ encouraged the ladies to work for the poor : to 
discountenance levity and idleness, she presented to each of them 
a small manuscript volume, moral or devotional, which was sub- 
stituted for the looking-glass, or the legend of chivalry,* for- 
merly appended to the girdle. By this strictness she perhaps 
created enemies; but that the King approved her conduct, is 
evident, from the promotion of Latimer to the see of Worcester : 
nor can he he supposed to have limited her munificence, which 
must have far exceeded the queenly revenue. With equal wis- 
dom and liberality, she directed a certain sum to be distributed 
to every village in England, for the relief of its poor or dis- 
tressed inhabitants. In imitation of her father and Wolsey, she 
maintained a certain number of promising youths at college, 
and took upon herself the care of their future preferment.'!" To 
many of these regulations she might have been prompted by 
Cranmer, or aided by Cromwel; but to have discovered their 
utility, and to have thus given a steady direction to the impulses 
of benevolence, is equally creditable to the feelings of her heart 
and the powers of her understanding. 

During the first year of her marriage, Anne j)erceived no 
diminution in Henry's attachment. Not even the disappoint- 

lier eie of charity, her hand of bounty passed through the whole land ; 
each place felt that heavenly flame hurning in her ; al times will re- 
member it." Wiatt's Queen Anne Bolen. — Fox and Strype attest the 
same facts. 

"^ The popular reading of the day, so contemptuously stigmatized by 
Ascham. 

I Doctor Hethe and Sir William Paget, both originally patronized 
by the Earl of Wiltshire, were afterwards protected by his daughter ; 
as was Dr. Thirbly, afterwards Bishop of Ely. 



BIRTH OF ELIZABETH. 281 

ment of his dearest hopes (which all centered in the possession 
of a son), for whose accomplishment he had looked to her with 
superstitious confidence ; not even the birth of a daughter, how- 
ever contrary to his anticipations, deprived her of his tender- 
ness; and he received, with becoming gratitude, the infant 
Elizabeth, who was universally acknowledged his presumptive 
heiress. The christening was solemnized with all the pomp of 
royal magnificence ;* but to those, who, like the Duke of Nor- 

^ In the ordonnances of the Countess of Riclimond and Derby, it is 
directed, that there should be provided for the Queen's bed, two pair 
of sheets, of linen, each four yards broad, and five yards long ; two 
head sheets, three yards broad, and four yards long ; two long, and 
two square pillows of fustian, stuffed with fine down. A pane of scarlet, 
furred with ermine, and embroidered with crimson velvet, upon velvet, 
or rich cloth of gold ; and a head-sheet, of like cloth of gold furred 
with ermine. A kevertour of fine lawn, of five breadths, and six yards 
long ; a mattrass stuffed with wool ; a feather bed, with a bolster of 
down ; a spawer of crimson satin, embroidered with crowns of gold ; 
the King and Queen's arms, and other devices lined with double torle- 
non, garnished with fringe of silk, blue, russet, and gold ; four cushions 
of crimson damask cloth, cloth of gold ; a round mantle of crimson 
velvet, plain furred with ermine, for the Queen to wear about her in 
her pallet. In the christening procession, it was required, that a 
duchess should carry the child, if a prince or earl ; if a princess, a 
countess was to bear the train ; the church and altar were to be 
hung with cloth of gold ; before the child were borne two hundred 
torches, which, on reaching the church, were all placed around the 
font ; the desk was to be elevated, to aflford the people an opportunity 
of witnessing the ceremony. In the infant's hand was placed a small 
taper, which he was to deposit on the altar. At the churchdoor, stood 
the Serjeant of the King's pantry with a towel of reynes about his 
neck, and a salt-cellar in his hand, ready to take a grain of the salt 
24 * 



282 ELIZABETH'S HOUSHEOLD. 

folk and his stepmotlier, and the Earl and Countess of Wiltshire 
could recollect that similar honours had been showered on the 
now disinherited Mary, this scene must have appeared a heartless 
pageant, and the little princess herself but a mock idol, to he 
worshipped or rejected according to the caprice of an imperious 
father. 

In the King, pride and policy concurred with aifection, in 
suppressing the avowal of his regret ; and when the little girl 
was only three months old, he occupied himself in forming the 
establishment of her separate household. By this arrangement 
Anne was divided from her child ; but she reigned in her hus- 
band^s heart; and it seemed almost an article of national faith 
to believe in the permanence of their mutual love and concord. 
The artist and the sculptor were employed to commemorate the 
circumstances of their romantic union 3 and wherever the ciphers 
of the King and Anne Boleyn were presented, a true-love's 
knot was added, in allusion to the tender sentiments which had 
drawn them to each other. A curious sculpture at Cambridge, 
of which the object was to eternize the memory of the monarch's 
fondness, still remains to offer an illustration of the mutability 
of human passions, more solemn, more impressive, than all that 
the poet could invent or the moralist teach.* 

before it was hallowed. In like manner, the serjeant of the ewer was 
ready to present to the bishops and sponsors the basin to wash ; and 
the officers of the spi-cery, as usual, were at hand with the voider of 
spices. 

^ At Iving's College, Cambridge, the choir is separated from the ante- 
chapel by a screen, added in 1534, in which are the initial ciphers of 
Henry and Anne Boleyn, interlaced with a true-love's knot. In one 
of the panels are displayed the arms of Boleyn, impaled with the arms 
of England. It is well known that the custom of interlacing the 



SOURCES OF CHAGRIN. 283 

But it belongs not to the greatest potentate to confer felicity. 
Even in this fairest season of prosperity, Anne had a constant 
source of chagrin, in the consciousness that her marriage, though 
acknowledged in France, and some parts of Germany, was 
disallowed in the other countries of Europe. 

From a circumstance, in itself sujficiently trivial, she had the 
mortification to discover, that the sympathy which Catherine had 
inspired was not extinct, and that, in her name, the most con- 
temptible agents possessed the means of inflaming the people. 
The cause of this new chagrin was the nun of Bocking, an igno- 
rant country girl, who, under the tuition of certain fanatics, 
assumed the character of a prophetess, and boldly denounced 
the King's death if he persisted in excluding Catherine for 
Anne Boleyn. The imposture was easily detected ; but several 
persons of distinction were involved in her delinquency, and, 
among others. Sir Thomas More incurred the suspicion of having 

ciphers of Mends or lovers was usual in France. Much of this gal- 
lantry passed between Francis and his mistress, the Duchess of Hure- 
poix. At the extremity of the Rue Gillecour, at the corner which it 
now forms with the Rue Hurepoix, Francis the First erected a small 
palace, communicating with an hotel that formerly belonged to the 
Duchess D'Estampes, in the Rue Hirondelle. The fresco painting, the 
pictures, the tapestry, the salamander, the well-known device of 
Francis, with various tender emblems and gallant devices, seemed to 
consecrate this elegant little mansion to love and pleasure. Of these 
symbols, one of the most remarkable was a heart in flames, suspended 
between an alpha and an omega, to denote eternal constancy. The 
bathing-house of the duchess was converted to the stable of an inn, 
called the Salamander. The apartment of Francis was metamorphosed 
into a kitchen, and his lady's boudoir was in the occupation of a poor 
laundress. — St. Foix's Essays on Paris. 



284 FATE OF FISHER AND MORE. 

I 
encouraged the nun's delusions. The charge was by him dis- 
claimed, hut partially proved against Bishop Fisher ; who was 
not only fined and imprisoned, but treated with the most inhu- 
man severity. Many of the offenders were executed, and the 
remainder werec only spared at the intercession of Anne Boleyn : 
by this humane interference, she might justly hope to increase 
her popularity with all parties, when another subject arose for 
persecution in the Act of Succession, establishing the King's 
supremacy, by which Plenry's marriage with Catherine was 
declared unlawful, and the crown settled exclusively on the issue 
of his beloved wife, Anne. 

To this law, all the King's subjects, who should have at- 
tained the age of sixteen, were required to swear allegiance. 
Amongst the few who openly resisted, were Fisher and More : 
the former accelerated his fate by consenting to accept from 
the Pope a cardinal's hat, in defiance of the King's prohi- 
bition of correspondence with the court of Rome.* Grreat 
offence was given by the execution of this venerable prelate, for 
his conscientious repugnance to a statute, by which he was re- 
quired, in direct violation of his principles, to declare the King's 
former marriage unlawful. The fate of More excited deep and 
lasting regret. Unhappily this virtuous, but prejudiced man, 
conceived he should compromise his religious principles, by 
taking an oath, which, according to the letter of the statute, 
impugned the legality of the King's former marriage : he offered 
to swear allegiance to the King's issue by Queen Anne, but 
rejected the clause which, by invalidating his prior engagements, 
negatived the authority which he believed to reside in the Su- 

■^ Henry swore, that though the Pope should send the bishop a hat, 
he would take care he should have no head to wear it. 



HENRY'S THEOLOGY. 285 

preme Pontiff. It was in vain that Cromwel besought liiin to 
reconsider the case, and rescind the sentence : even Henry 
sought a pretext for saving his life, without infringing the legal 
authorities. Anne Bolejn must still more passionately have 
desired to avert a sacrifice, of which she alone would bear the 
odium ; but More persisted, and, blending the resignation of 
the saint with the magnanimity of the hero, appeared rather to 
welcome than to deprecate his fate. The purity of his principles 
has consecrated his name to posterity, and the errors of the per- 
secutor are forgotten in the virtues of the martyr. 

Nothing could be more unpropitious to Anne's interests than 
these sanguinary measures ; and she observed, with alarm, the 
fluctuations of Henry's wayward mind, who, although he had 
assumed to himself the rights of supremacy; though he en- 
grossed the tributes formerly offered to the Pope ; though he had 
even prohibited all appeals to Rome, and all submission to the 
Roman pontiff; yet, with that inconsistency peculiar to his 
cliaracter, he still revolted from the disciples of Luther, and still 
piqued himself on upholding, with the Catholic faith, many of 
the grossest errors and superstitions engrafted on its principles. 
But necessity at length compelled him to listen to the overtures 
of the German princes who formed the league of Smalcalde. 
Clement the Seventh was dead, and his successor, Paul the 
Third, was likely to become a more formidable opponent. At 
the pontiff's denunciations against himself and his realm, Henry 
might smile with contempt ; but from his union with the Em- 
peror he had serious cause to fear, since he could place little 
confidence in the alliance of Francis, and had no resources but 
to coalesce with some other European polentate. The German 
Protestants, with more reason alarmed by the Emperor's hostility, 



286 MISSION TO GERMANY. 

not only solicited his assistance, but offered to declare liim the 
chief and protector of their confederacy. 

Their importunities; seconded by the arguments of Cranmer 
and Cromwel, were enforced by Anne's more persuasive elo- 
quence. Henry was not really averse to a proposal so flattering 
to his political pretensions ; nor was he, perhaps, aware, that to 
Anne's character, and to the esteem and enthusiasm it inspired, 
he chiefly owed this proof of confidence. It was well known, 
that she pronounced that day lost in which she had not been 
permitted to render to a Protestant some service. Her actions 
justified her professions,* and she repeatedly called on Cromwel 
to indemnify the merchants who had sustained any injury in 
person or fortune by promoting the importation of Bibles, or 
other tracts devoted to the popular cause. In England such 
conduct might be referred to interest, or to humanity ; but in 
Protestant Grermany, where all were inflamed with the zeal and 
enthusiasm that characterize a new and rapidly increasing sect, 
the Queen's liberality was proudly attributed to the triumph of 
Lutheran principles. Unfortunately, the alliance with England, 
for which, in reality, nothing was necessary but the recognition 
of the same political interests, was supposed to require a perfect 
sympathy in religious opinions. Drs. Fox and Hethe were sent 
to Germany on a mission to the Lutheran divines, Avith whom 
many conferences took place, of which the conclusion was little 
satisfactory to the pride or prejudices of Henry, since even 
Anne's popularity could not entice them to acknowledge the 
legality of his divorce, and neither arguments nor promises 

* See in Burnet and Strype her letter to Cromwel to redress the 
•wrongs of a Protestant merchant, who had been persecuted for his zeal 
in promoting the circulation of the Bible. 



HENRY AND THE MONKS. 287 

atoned for his rejection of the Confession of Augsburg. It is, 
however, more than probable, these difficulties might have been 
obviated in a subsequent negotiation, but for the influence of 
Gardiner, who was, at the same time, employed in an embassy 
to France, which . afforded him facilities for counteractins: the 
united efforts of Hethe and Melancthon, and rendering the whole 
plan abortive. The unprosperous issue of the negotiation was a se- 
vere disappointment to Anne, already mortified by the heavy pu- 
nishments inflicted on certain religious fraternities, which refused 
to acknowledge the King's supremacy. She appears not to have par- 
ticipated in Henry's aversion for conventual establishments ; she at 
least revolted from the harsh and illiberal means employed in their 
suppression, and humanely engaged the intrepid Latimer to en- 
force, in a sermon preached before the King, the impiety of 
seizing, for his own use, the treasury which he had discovered 
in the monasteries.* Henry had long stigmatized the monks as 
the drones of the church, whom the better order of priests des- 
pised, and the laity abhorred. To demonstrate the absurdity 
and illiberality of indiscriminate censures against any particular 
order of men, we have but to turn to Luther, who belonged to 
a community of mendicant friars ; and if we would seek exam- 
ples worthy of the purest ages of Christian heroism, they might 
be found in the prior of the Charter-house, and his companions,f 

* See Collier's Ecclesiastical History. 

f To Houghton, who was venerated by the people, a pardon was 
offered at the moment that he was approaching the scaffold, if he would 
acknowledge the King's supremacy: he replied, "I call the Omni- 
potent God to witness, that it is not out of obstinate malice I disobey 
the King, but only for the fear of God, that I offend not the Supreme 
Majesty of heaven." 



288 HOPES OF AN HEIR. 

the origin of whose sufferings is forgotten in the magnanimity 
with which they were supported. La Yalette and his Knights 
of Malta expressed not more sublime sentiments than these 
single-minded men; preferring death to the least infringement 
of their voluntary engagement — in whom enthusiasm was not 
kindled by the breath of fame, and whose fidelity asked no 
recompense from the meed of glory. 

Amidst other cares and chagrins incident to her situation, 
Anne was not exempted from the jealousies of ambition; and 
she sometimes admitted the apprehension, that if the King 
coalesced not with the Protestant princes, he might ultimately 
reconcile himself to the papal see ; an event she could not con- 
template without the most serious alarm for her own personal 
interest ; but to these unpromising anticipations was opposed a 
circumstance calculated to inspire the most favourable presage. 
In the third year of her marriage, she was again permitted to 
flatter herself that she was destined to present to Henry the 
long-desired blessing of a son. 

Although, from his critical position with Charles and Francis, 
such an auspicious hope was more than ever necessary to appease 
the King's solicitude to transmit an undisputed succession; he 
no longer lavished on his consort those tender attentions she had 
been accustomed to expect, and to which she was now more than 
ever entitled. Many circumstances might have gradually con- 
spired to this change, although it had hitherto escaped observa- 
tion. Since the period of her marriage, Anne's situation had 
been essentially altered ; her mind expanded, her character deve- 
loped ; instead of being merely the private gentlewoman, whose 
highest ambition was to attract or please, she was become the 
partner of the throne, the generous queen, who aspired to be a 
true and affectionate mother of the people. 



JANE SEYMOUR. 289 

The entliusiasm she delighted to inspire was far from pleasing 
to Henry, now that the fervour of passion had subsided, and 
that he no longer required talents or courage, but unwearied 
adulation and unconditional obedience. To a jealous egotist 
her best qualities had, perhaps, the effect of diminishing her 
attractions ; by the zeal with which she carried into effect her 
plans of reformation, she must have offended one accustomed to 
consider himself as the sole and exclusive object of attention. 
It was, perhaps, fatal to her safety, that, in the first transports 
of affection, Henry had admitted her to a full participation of 
all the honour and sovereignty formerly conceded to Catherine, 
and that he not only caused her to be proclaimed Queen Consort 
of England, but Lady of Ireland. "When love declined, it 
might be suggested that he had sacrificed dignity, and even 
hazarded security, by this prodigal dispensation. Another unfor- 
tunate circumstance was his growing indifference to her father 
and brother, and his prepossession for the Duke of Norfolk and 
his sinister counsels. More fatal was the presence of Lady 
Rochford ; who, repining at her exclusion from the confidential 
conversation of her husband and his sister, conceived against 
both a diabolical hatred, the most atrocious that ever polluted a 
female bosom. All these causes combined, might, however, 
have been inadequate to produce the desired end, but for another 
agent, who soon gave a fatal impulse to Henry's imperious pas- 
sions. 

The precise period of Jane Seymour's introduction to court 
is not known ; but it is intimated by Anne's biographer ("Wiatt), 
that she was thrown in the King's way for the express purpose 
of stealing his affections from his once idolized Queen. This 
young lady was the daughter of Sir John Seymour, of Wolf 
25 



290 JANE SEYMOUR. 

Hall; in Wilts ;* lier two brothers were Esquires of the King's 
person; ambitious men, eager in the pursuit of fortune, and 
willing to derive every possible advantage from their sister's 
beauty. That Jane was eminently distinguished by her personal 
attractions must be admitted, since we hear of no other fascina- 
tion that she possessed. Without the talents, the graces, the 
sensibilities, which gave to Anne such inexhaustible variety of 
charms, Jane possessed, however, that first bloom of youth which, 
now that Henry had lost his youthful susceptibility of imagina- 
tion, and perhaps original delicacy of taste, was powerfully 
alluring. 

It is probable that the inferiority of Jane's mental attainments 
had also contributed to turn the balance in her favour. But what- 
ever might be her powers of captivation, there is too much reason 
to believe that she had a ready auxiliary in the Duke of Nor- 
folk, who detested his niece, and execrated the reforming party. 
At first, the King's attentions to Jane Seymour were clandestine. 
Anne so little anticipated the impending evil, that her anxiety, 
singularly misplaced, was directed towards Catherine, who if she 
survived the King, would, she feared, be at the head of a party 

* Sir John Seymour was descended from that William de Saint Mauro, 
(afterwards contracted to Seimonr), who, by the aid of Gilbert, Earl 
Marshal of Pembroke, recovered Wendy, in Monmouthshire, from the 
Welsh, in 1240 (Henry the Third). William was of Norman extrac- 
tion, and progenitor of that Seimour who married one of the daugh- 
ters of Beauchamp of Hack, a rich baron, who traced his pedigree, in 
the maternal line, to Sybil, a daughter of the great Earl of Pembroke. 
The patrimony of the Seimours was augmented by marriage with the 
heiress of Wolf Hall, one of the Esturmies of Wilts, and they were 
hereditary guardians of the Forest of Saernbroke, near Marlborough ; 
in memory of which, a hunter's horn, tipt with silver, was worn by the 
Earls of Hereford. 



CATHERINE'S DEATH. 291 

sufficiently formidable to annul the Act of Succession, with what- 
ever rights or dignities it had conferred on herself and the 
Princess Elizabeth. From these apprehensions she was sud- 
denly relieved by the news of Catherine's death,* when she un- 
guardedly exclaimed, ^^Now I am indeed a queen.'' On that 
occasion, Anne, usually compassionate, showed less tenderness 
than the selfish Henry ; and the few tears which he shed over 
Catherine's letter, might have taught her she no longer possessed 
his heart. 

Under the influence of a new passion, and -detesting the ties 
which severed him from Jane Seymour, Henry might justly 
lament the sacrifices he had made to obtain an object he no 
longer valued, not perhaps without internally reverting to that 
season of youth, when he had pledged his faith to a royal bride. 
Reflections such as these, could not but produce in his mind a 
temporary sadness, soon succeeded by eager solicitude to transfer 
to himself whatever property had been possessed by his divorced 
wife.f A few days after this event, Anne, who had at length, 
perhaps, received some intimation of her lord's inconstancy, 
fatally for herself, surprised Jane Seymour listening with com- 

* Catherine died at Kimbolton, in Huntingdonshire. 

f In her -will, Catherine surrendered everything to the King, whom 
she persisted in addressing as her most dear husband, without naming 
any executor, saying, "she had nothing to give." On this occasion, 
Riche, afterwards Lord Chancellor, advised the King, on the grounds of 
some legal informality, to djchirc her will void, and, instead of seizing 
her goods, to apply to the Bishop of Lincoln, in whose diocese she had 
been at the time of death, to grant an administration of her goods to 
such persons as his Highness should appoint; and by this means Henry 
obtained possession of the property, no part of which was appropriated 
in the manner the Queen had requested. 



292 ILLNESS OF ANNE. 

placency to his protestations of regard^ and submitting, without 
reluctance, to his tender caresses.* 

At the first glance, Anne stood transfixed with amazement ; but, 
in an instant, she comprehended that her prosperity was de- 
parted : nature sunk under the conflict of contending emotions, 
and she was prematurely delivered of a dead son. For some 
time her recovery was doubtful : life at length prevailed, and 
she received a visit from her royal husband ; not to commiserate 
her sorrows, but upbraidingly to proclaim his own irreparable 
disappointment. Agonized by this brutal reproach, and the 
bitter recollections it awakened, the unhappy Queen rashly re- 
minded him, that the calamity had been caused by his unkind- 
ness. 

These words sealed her fate. Unused to reproof, Henry mut- 
tered a fatal prediction, too soon verified,'}" and left her to an- 

* Sanders. — Heylin. 

It is difficult to conceive on what principles of morality Jane Sey- 
mour has been extolled for her superlative modesty and virtue. It 
does not appear, that Henry ever offered to her dishonourable propo- 
sals ; but she certainly scrupled not to encourage his clandestine ad- 
dresses, and to walk over Anne's corse to the throne. It may, per- 
haps, be said, that she was merely the agent of her brothers' ambi- 
tion ; even this cannot excuse the coarse apathy with which she sub- 
mitted to become Henry's wife on the very day when he had destroyed 
her rival. Both Catholics and Protestants have extolled this lady ; the 
former from malevolence to her predecessor, the latter from complai- 
sance to her son. The Princess Mary, who alone from filial feelings 
had cause to hate Anne Boleyn, might be pardoned for this invidious 
partiality. 

f This account is corroborated by Sanders, Heylin, and other wri- 
ters, and the circiimstance is pointedly alluded to in Anne's letter to 



DESIGNS OF HENRY. 293 

ticipate and to deplore the consequences of one impetuous 
moment. After Catherine's death, Henry had but to reconcile 
himself to the Church of Rome, and to rescind his late acts, to 
annul his marriage with Anne, and secure the privilege of ele- 
vating his favourite to the throne ; but whilst his obstinacy re- 
fused concessions to the Pope, his avarice equally opposed the 
restitution which he should have had to offer to the English 
clergy ; and pride forbade him to re-establish those ecclesiastical 
abuses for which he had loudly proclaimed hostility and con- 
tempt. 

Under such circumstances, to repudiate Anne would be dis- 
creditable, and having resolved to criminate her conduct, he 
easily discovered an offence, for which, in his eyes, she deserved 
to die ; that if she survived, she might interfere with the claims 
of his posterity by Jane Seymour. 

At this period, Henry was himself in a precarious state of 

the King. — <' It was reported," says Wiatt, "that the Iviuge came to 
her, and bewailinge and complaininge to her of the los of his hoy, some 
words were heard breake out of the inward feelinge of her hart's do- 
lours, lainge the fait upon unkindnes, which the Kinge more than was 
cause (her case at this time considered) tooke more hardly than other- 
wise he would, if he had not bin somewhat too much overcome with 
griefe, or not so much alienat. Wise men in those daise judged that 
her virtue was here her defalt, and that if her to much love could, as 
wel as the other Queeue, have borne with his defect of love, she might 
have falen into les danger, and in the end have tied him the more 
ever after to her, when he had seene his errour, and that she might 
the rather have doone respectinge the general libertie and custome of 
feelinge then that way. Certainly from hensfourth the harme still more 
increased, and he was then heard to say to her, he would have no more 
boise by her." ^ 

25* 



294 LADY ROCHFORD. 

health ; a circumstance that, far from softening, inflamed the 
ferocity of his nature. His despotic will had long extended 
"beyond the grave, and he desired, and even demanded, to legis- 
late for posterity; adopting the convenient maxim, that the 
means were sanctified by the end, he again descended to the 
meanness formerly employed with Catherine, that of planting 
spies around his once beloved Queen, and thus stimulated or 
invited the malicious communications of Lady Rochford, who, 
without encouragement, could not have ventured to obtrude 
her real or pretended jealousies on his attention. 

To destroy the envied Anne Boleyn, this abandoned woman 
scrupled not to accuse her husband of participation in a crime 
abhorrent to nature, and of which it argues depravity even to 
admit the belief. Henry perhaps considered as treasonable the 
frequent interviews of the brother and sister, which, whether 
they referred to Jane Seymour, or the progress of reformation, 
equally militated against his august supremacy. To secure the 
agency of Lady Rochford, though important, was not decisive ; 
since her testimony might be rebutted by that of other ladies 
of unblemished fame, who, with better opportunities for observ- 
ing their mistress, had not the same motives to traduce her con- 
duct. The constraint imposed by custom on a Queen Consort, 
rendered it morally impossible* that she should wrong her lord, 
without the knowledge and connivance of subordinate agents. 
Entrammelled by ordonnances of state, all her movements were 
watched, and in a manner registered, by the satellites of her 
person, who intruded on the hours of privacy, and, without pre- 

* TMs was so notorious, that, on the detection of Catherine Howard's 
guilt, Lady Rochford was convicted of treason, on the ground of having 
been accessary to the intrigue. 



ANNE'S CHARITIES. 295 

suming to oppose her will, continually encroached on her liberty. 
In reality, the Queen's conduct appears to have furnished no 
plausible grounds for attainting her reputation. That after her 
elevation she should have tempered dignity with affability, was 
rather for praise than censure. She delighted to diffuse cheer- 
fulness, and still more to dispense beneficence. Within the last 
nine months, she had expended the sum of fifteen thousand 
pounds on charities and other public and useful institutions. 
The enthusiasm of party might have kindled her zeal for Pro- 
testantism ; but it must have been the sympathies of a generous 
and amiable nature that prompted the munificence perpetually 
flowing in benefits to the people. During her long ante-nuptial 
probation, she must have learnt to dismiss coquetry from her 
attractions. The woman who had chosen Latimer and Shaxton 
(afterwards bishop of Sarum) to be her chaplains, who sought 
to effect a reformation in the manners of her court, and gloried 
in the reputation she had acquired by Lutheranism, such a woman 
was, of all others, the least likely to have risked her safety for 
the gallant attentions of the most accomplished courtier. As a 
proof of her prudence in this respect, it may be observed, that 
neither Wiatt, whom she really admired, nor the Earl of North- 
umberland, by whom she had been passionately beloved, were 
implicated in the suspicion ; and for this obvious reason, that the 
general propriety of her conduct must have deprived such a 
charge of all colourable probability. The pretended paramours 
were only to be found in men to whom she was peculiarly acces- 
sible, — her personal attendants, or a justly-beloved brother. 
Among the most fatal of her indiscretions, was the intimacy 
which she cultivated with many individuals of her own sex, and 
the facility with which she yielded her unreserved confidence to 



296 NORRIS. 

female flatterers^ ever ready to ascribe the homage of the young-er 
courtiers to tender or romantic sentiments. 

Another circumstance prejudicial to her safe ty^ was the pre- 
carious state of the King's health. 

That a queen dowager should intermarry with a nobleman or 
private gentleman, was no unfrequent occurrence, as the King's 
two sisters had evinced by their example : it was, therefore, not 
unlikely that the more brilliant courtiers might speculate on 
such a probable contingency. For Henry, it was enough that 
such motives could be imputed to them by the idle gossips of 
the court ; and on this slight and vague surmise, was built one 
of his most important accusations. 

Amongst the acknowledged favourites of the royal household 
were two gentlemen of the bedchamber, Norris and Weston, who 
had long been admitted to the King's confidential intimacy, and 
who were of the select number at all hours admitted to his privy 
chamber. To these gentlemen, Anne originally, perhaps from 
deference to her lord's pleasure, had shown particular courtesy, 
and till the period of his estrangement he was pleased that she 
should so distinguish the objects of his preference. When 
Henry neglected his wife's society, these gentlemen had too 
much real delicacy of sentiment to withdraw the homage they 
had been accustomed to offer to their Queen ; but their motives 
could not be appreciated in a court where honour was so little 
understood. It was whispered that Norris aspired to the future 
possession of his fair mistress, and some idle or malicious calum- 
niators had the effrontery to maintain that he was already her 
favoured lover ; nor was it only of her enemies that Anne re- 
ceived injuries. By the interference of judicious friends, she 
was apprised of the scandal industriously circulated against her ; 



WESTON. 297 

and conceiving that such rumours must be injurious to the hopes 
she still entertained of regaining the King's affections, she 
determined to make an effort to induce Norris to confute the 
tale, by marrying a lady, to whom it was supposed he had been 
long engaged. Relying on his friendship and honour, she asked 
him why he did not proceed with his projected marriage : he 
confessed he had relinquished the engagement. Mortified at her 
disappointment, Anne abruptly announced the injury she sus- 
tained by the suspicions affixed to his conduct : he replied by 
disclaiming all selfish motives, with the indignant feelings of a 
man of honour. That, however, he was not alienated from her 
interests, appears by the promptitude with which, in obedience 
to her mandate, he went to her almoner to protest his firm and 
immutable faith in the Queen's virtue. Some part of this con- 
versation had been overheard ; and one of Anne's expressions, 
(^^ if ought but good should happen to the King, ye would think 
to have me,") was afterwards made, by a strained construction, 
to convict her of having imagined and conspired the King's 
death. In Weston she appears not to have reposed equal con- 
fidence : although a married man, he allowed himself, according 
to the manners of the day, to address, as a lover, a young lady 
(Mrs. Skelton), who happened to be one of the Queen's relations. 
Whether Anne was prompted by sympathy for the neglected 
wife, or whether she hoped to produce a reformation in her 
courtiers, she ventured to offer an expostulation which was little 
relished. Weston interrupted her admonitions with a declara- 
tion of gallantry, by which her pride, if not her delicacy, was 
offended, and they parted with mutual displeasure. 

No situation could be more painful than that of the woman 
so lately the object of envy and adoration. During three months 



298 TROUBLES OF ANNE. 

she assiduously endeavoured to regain tlie King's affections^ by 
cheerful submission and obsequious silence ; but the perturbation 
of her feelings perpetually impelled her to require information 
of his movements. She learned with dismay that his clandes- 
tine meetings with Jane Seymour continued; and whether she 
were wooed as a mistress, or wife, from her knowledge of Henry's 
character, she discovered a mystery in his conduct that justified 
the most ominous forebodings. The agitation of her mind rob- 
bed her of repose ; and even in her dreams she is said to have 
been haunted by images of calamity and death.* In the court 
of the despotic Henry, his suspected hostility was alone sufficient 
to raise against the unfortunate Anne a host of real foes. By 
the Catholics she was conscientiously detested, as the fatal cause 
of schism with the Romish church. The old politicians, recol- 
lecting the tragical fate of Edward the Fifth, deprecated the 
evils of a disputed succession ; even the Protestants, to whom 
she was endeared as a friend and protectress, possessed too little 
power to brave the King's displeasure. Thus, political calcula- 
tions conspired with personal interests to accelerate the fall of 
Anne Boleyn. Under any circumstances she would have been 
subjected to calumnious misrepresentations; but at no other 
moment would Henry have allowed them to be circulated with 
impunity. In the present instance, he eagerly availed himself 
of a frivolous slander to institute a private inquisition on the 
Queen's conduct, but with an inflexible resolution to pronounce 
her guilty. f 

* See Fox. 

f If we may believe Meteren, the slander to wliich the King's suspi- 
cions were ostensibly attributed, originated in the flippant answer of 
a Frenchwoman to a reproving brother, "that the Queen allowed 



THE KING'S POLICY. 299 

That the King had preconcerted his plan, and ah-eadj decided 
her fate, is evident by his having even in April convoked the 
parliament which was to exonerate him from the consequences 
of his now detested union, and abrogate the late act of succes- 
sion in favour of his dearly-beloved Anne and her posterity. In 
thus prejudging her cause, he inadvertently furnished a strong 
presumption of her innocence. 

On May-day, according to ancient usage, a tournament was 
held at Greenwich, at which Anne, for the last hour of triumph, 
attired with royal magnificence, was as usual the supreme object 
of attraction. Lord Rochford was the challenger, and Norris 
the defendant. The King had for some time looked on with 
complacency ; when he suddenly quitted the balcony with a 
countenance of stern displeasure.* Alarmed by his deport- 
ment, Anne no longer attended to the mock-combat, but took 
the earliest opportunity to withdraw from the balcony. That 

gentlemen at all hours to enter her chamber." On the strength of 
this report, Henry required Weston, Norris, and Brereton, to furnish 
proofs ; but they denied the fact ; nor was any other evidence obtained 
than that of Lady Rochford, to criminate the Queen. On one occasion 
only, it appeared that her brother, George Boleyn, had been seen to 
whisper in her ear before she had risen from her bed. 

* It has been pretended by Sanders that Henry's jealousy was ex- 
cited by seeing Norris wipe his face with a handkerchief the Queen 
had dropped from her balcony ; but this circumstance is neitlier men- 
tioned in our old chroniclers, nor alluded to by Wiatt, her more minute 
biographer. The information of Sanders alone is scarcely admissible; 
and Lord Herbert, in quoting him, evidently distrusts the authority; 
besides, Anne's fate was already decreed ; writs had some days before 
been issued for the parliament which was to abrogate every preceding 
act passed in her favour. 



300 ARREST OF WESTON AND NORRIS. 

night she passed in anxious suspense ; nothing transpired till the 
mornings when Weston, Norris, and two other gentlemen, were 
arrested and committed to the Tower. That Henry really enter- 
tained suspicions of Weston and Norris, is to the last degree 
improbable, since he is said to have expressed repugnance to the 
commitment of the former gentleman; a sentiment of which, 
had he not known the charges to be false, his vindictive spirit 
was wholly incapable. Accustomed to modify his opinions by 
his passions, he might easily persuade himself that Weston and 
Norris were in possession of such circumstances as might sub- 
stantially confirm the accusation ; and he, therefore, eagerly 
offered them indemnity, on condition that they should become 
the Queen's accusers. Baffled in his purpose, he no longer hesi- 
tated what course to take, and they were doomed to perish the 
victims of his policy, or, it might be, of his pride and ven- 
geance. 

During some hours after their arrest Anne remained in igno- 
rance of their common calamity ; but when, at the accustomed 
hour, she sat down to dinner, she observed an unusual expres- 
sion of seriousness in her ladies, neither of whom chose to be 
the harbinger of misfortune. Scarcely was the surnap removed 
ere the Duke of Norfolk, and other Lords of the council, with 
Sir Thomas Audley, entered her apartment. The duke ap- 
proached not with his accustomed courtesy j Sir Thomas Aud- 
ley followed with visible reluctance; but the sudden apparition 
of Kingston, the Grovernor of the Tower, at once revealed her 
fate ; and shrieking with horror, she demanded the reason of 
their coming. She was briefly answered by her uncle, — " It is 
His Majesty's pleasure that you should depart to the Tower.'' 
— ^'If it be His Blajesty's pleasure," replied Anne, regaining 



ANNE COMMITTED TO THE TOWER. 301 

her self-possession, " I am ready to obey ;" and without waiting 
even to change her dress, she intrepidly committed herself to 
their custody. She was no sooner seated in the barge, than the 
Duke of Norfolk entered on the examination, by pretending that 
the guilty paramours had already substantiated the charges 
against her. She replied but by protestations of innocence; 
demanding with vehemence to be permitted to see the King, 
and to offer her personal vindication. To all her asseverations, 
the Duke of Norfolk replied but by shaking his head with an 
expression of incredulous contempt; the other peers were not 
more respectful. Sir Thomas Audley alone disdained the un- 
manly baseness, and by every delicate attention endeavoured to 
soften the anguish of a desolate woman. Never, perhaps, was 
there a situation more calculated to call forth pity than that of 
the deserted being who was yesterday a Queen, and to-day a 
culprit : three years had scarcel}'" passed, since she left the same 
palace to be invested with the insignia of royalty, — to be hailed 
and idolized as the most fortunate of women. Two hundred boats 
had then followed in her train, to share the falcon's triumph. 
She was now conveyed to the Tower in a solitary barge, without 
friends or protectors. She approached not under the auspices 
of the mayor and his loyal companions ; no discharge of artil 
lery announced her presence; nor was she welcomed by the 
burst of sympathy, or the triumphant sound of popular accla- 
mation. Of all the honours conferred at her coronation, no- 
thing remained but the empty title of Queen, and an awful pre- 
eminence of misery. 

Before she quitted the barge, she fell on her knees, solemnly 
invokins: God to attest her innocence. Then once more besought 
the duke to persuade the King to li.sten to her vindication. To 
26 



302 ANNE'S IMPRISONMENT. 

this entreaty her unfeeling kinsman vouclisafed no answer, but 
left her to the care of Kingston,* the Grovernor of the Tower, 
with whose inauspicious name were associated terror and despair. 
With his assistance Anne once more ascended those stairs she 
had lately passed in triumph, when the King himself stood 
ready to receive her, with all the ardour of impassioned love. 
Kingston was now her only conductor, and of him, she inquired 
whither she was to he conveyed, and whether he meant to lodge 
her in a dungeon? — "No, Madam,^' he replied; "but to the 
same lodging that you had before, at your coronation." In an 
instant, Anne felt the gulf into which she was precipitated ; and 
giving herself up for lost, passionately exclaimed, "It is too 
good for me ;'^ as an unfortunate peer, under the influence of 
similar feelings, had, a few years before, declined the honours 
still offered to his rank, which, he said, belonged not to the 
wretched caitiff who had ceased to be Buckingham. In like 
manner, Anne shed a torrent of tears, too plainly perceiving that 
she had ceased to be the idolized Queen of Henry the Eighth; 

* The following anecdote sufficiently illustrates Kingston's charac- 
ter. — " One Bowyer, mayor of Bodmin, in Cornwall, had been amongst 
the rebels, not willingly, but enforced : to him the Provost Kingston 
sent word he would come and dine with him, for whom the mayor made 
great provision. A little before dinner, the Provost took the mayor 
aside, and whispered in the ear, that an execution must that day be 
done in the town, and therefore he must set up two gallows : the mayor 
did so. After dinner Sir William Kingston thanked him for his enter- 
tainment, and then desired him to bring him to the gallows. He then 
asked whether they were strong enough? 'I warrant thee,' said the 
mayor. 'Then,' rejoined Sir William, <get you upon them.' — 'I!' 
said the mayor ; 'you mean not as you speak.' — 'Nay, sir, you must 
die, for you have been a busy rebel.' " 



HER DEPORTMENT IN TRISON. 803 

and was now but the poor persecuted Anne Boleyn. At length 
recovering from this extreme dejection, she inquired of Kingston, 
when he had seen her father ? then eagerly exclaimed, ^^ Oh ! 
where is my sweet brother ?" Not willing to confess that he 
was already committed to the same prison, Kingston evaded 
this question. And Anne, collecting her spirits, resumed, — 
" Mr. Kingston, I hear I shall be accused by three men ; yet, 
though they should open my body (and she emphatically opened 
her robe), I could but say nay, nay." Then, mentally reverting 
to her late conversation with Norris, she cried, " And hast thou, 
too, Norris, accused me ? and we shall die together I" At this 
moment, the recollection of the proud Couii4ess of Wiltshire 
rushed to her mind, and she loudly exclaimed, " Oh ! my mother, 
thou wilt die with sorrow." She then deplored the illness of 
Lady Worcester, whom she had left at the palace overwhelmed 
with grief, pathetically adding, "It is all for the cause of meV^ 
Her next question to Kingston was, whether she should have 
justice? ^'Yes, Madam, the poorest subject has justice." To 
this assurance she replied but by a convulsive laugh ; impressed 
perhaps with the conviction that she was in reality more un- 
friended than the poorest subject. When she again spoke, it 
was to entreat that she might receive the sacrament in a closet 
adjoining her chamber. The storm of conflicting passions now 
subsided ; and, having anchored her hopes on another world, she 
appeared comparatively serene and cheerful. It should be re- 
membered as an important fact, that even when impressed with 
the belief that Weston and Norris had really conspired against 
her, she persisted in asserting her innocence. The day after 
her commitment, she pressed Kingston to convey for her a letter 
to Cromwel; but, although he excused himself from performing 



304 ANNE'S ATTENDANTS. 

this office^ lie readily offered to repeat to tlie secretary whatever 
the Queen should be pleased to communicate. Anne thanked him 
for the civility, hut declined accepting it. She had soon occasion 
to detect the ungenerous spirit of Henry, in the ladies selected 
to be her companions in prison, of whom she once remarked, 
with her wonted frankness, that she thought it very unkind of 
the King to plant around her those she so little loved. For this 
procedure there was, however, an obvious reason ; since it was 
hoped, by their agency, to draw from her some acknowledgment 
which might hereafter be wrested to her prej udice. Anne, as might 
naturally be expected, fell into the snare, by repeating the conver- 
sations she had laiely held with Norris and Weston. She detailed 
in what manner she had besought the former to vindicate her fame, 
and by what means she had incurred the displeasure of the 
latter. Of Mark Smeton,* the musician, she appeared to know 
nothing ; and protested that he had never but once been admit- 
ted within her apartments, when he had been summoned to play 
on the virginals. During some of these explanations, her aunt, 
Lady Edward Boleyn, observed, with more truth than tender- 
ness, "Had you never listened to such tale-bearers, you had 
never been in this situation." There were moments when Anne 
seemed to feel it impossible that the King should really single 
out for destruction the wife he had so lately loved ; and she once 
said, with a smile, she thought he d:d it but to prove her. At 
her second examination before the Duke of Norfolk, she received 
new indignities, of which she loudly complained, protesting, that 
by Cromwel alone she had been treated with decency : even by 

* Of this miscreant nothing has been recorded, but that he was low- 
born, and a musician. There can be little doubt that he was suborned 
lijy Anne's enemies to promote her ruin. 



HER ANSWER TO HENRY. 305 

hinij though evidently convinced of her innocence, she was un- 
willingly abandoned to the King's vengeance. Cranmer alone 
made a feeble and abortive effort in her favour. At length 
Henry sent a message; enforced by a visit from Lady Rochford, 
requiring her, by prompt and ample confession, to atone for her 
criminal conduct. By this last cruel and deliberate insult, her 
eyes were opened to her true situation : and no longer doubting 
of her fate, she appears not to have even cherished a wish to 
preserve her existence. This sentiment she expressed with much 
dignity in her last message to the King, when, after having 
thanked him for his signal bounties, she added, ^' From a private 
gentlewoman he raised me to a marchioness, from a marchioness 
to a queen ; and now, that he can no farther advance me in this 
world, he is about to make me a saint in Heaven.'' It was after 
this severe trial, that Anne wrote or dictated the following letter, 
addressed to the King, but which was destined never to meet 
his eye.* 

* The authenticity of this letter, afterwards found among Cromwel's 
papers, has been repeatedly called in question ; but, whether it were 
written by Anne Boleyn, or an abler pen, it seems undeniable that it 
was composed under her direction, and that it contains a genuine 
transcript of her sentiments and feelings. The allusions to her peculiar 
situation are such as could scarcely have been introduced by any in- 
diiferent person. During her imprisonment Anne was visited by the 
sister of Wiatt, her beloved Mrs. Margaret Lee. It is not improbable 
that the outline of this letter received its polish from Wiatt's elegant 
pen ; and it is worthy of remark, that although he was not suspected 
of being her paramour, he was, after her death, committed to the Tower 
for having been her friend. Loyd says, *' he got into trouble about the 
aflFair of Queen Anne ; her favour raised him, and her friendship nearly 
ruined him." In "Wiatt's Life of Queen Anne Boleyn, allusion is made 
2G* 



306 ANNE'S LAST LETTER TO HENRY. 

Queen Anne Boleyn^s last letter to King Henry. 
'' Sir, 
^^ Your Gi-race's displeasure, and my imprisonment, are things 
so strange unto me, as what to write, or what to excuse, I am 
altogether ignorant. Whereas you send unto me (willing me 
to confess a truth, and so obtain your favour), by such an one 
whom you know to he my ancient professed enemy ;* I no sooner 
received this message by him, than I rightly conceived your 
meaning ; and if, as you say, confessing a truth indeed may pro- 
cure my safety, I shall with all willingness and duty perform 
your command. But let not Your G-race ever imagine that your 
poor wife will ever be brought to acknowledge a fault, where 
not so much as a thought thereof preceded. And, to speak a 
truth, never prince had wife more loyal in all duty, and in all 
true affection, than you have ever found in Anne Boleyn; 
with which name and place I could willingly have contented 
myself, if God and your Grace's pleasure had been so pleased. 
Neither did I at any time so far forget myself in my exaltation, 
or received queenship, but that I always looked for such an 
alteration as now I find ; for the ground of my preferment being 

to this circumstance ; but Ms disgrace was temporary. Henry knew 
his worth, and with him had no motive to be vindictive. Of those who 
insist that the letter was not written by Anne Boleyn, it is fair to in- 
quire, by whom, and for what purpose, it could have been fabricated ? 
Surely, not by Cromwel. With regard to Wiatt, it is worthy of remark, 
that two years after Anne's death, he was charged by Bonner with 
having said that " Henry deserved to be thrown into the sea." Wiatt 
repelled the accusation ; but it was probably grounded on the indig- 
nation he had really expressed at the sacrifice of Anne Boleyn, 
* Probably the Duke of Norfolk. 



ANNE'S LAST LETTER TO HENRY. 307 

on no surer foundation than Your Grace's fancy, the least altera- 
ation, I knew, was fit and sufficient to draw that fancy to some 
other subject. You have chosen me, from a low estate, to be 
your Queen and companion, far beyond my desert or desire. If 
then you found me worthy of such honour, good Your Grace let 
not any light fancy, or bad counsel of mine enemies, withdraw 
your princely favour from, me; neither let that stain, that un- 
worthy stain of a disloyal heart towards your good Grace, ever 
cast so foul a blot on your most dutiful wife, and the infant 
princess your daughter : try me, good King, but let me have a 
lawful trial, and let not my sworn enemies sit as my accusers and 
judges; yea, let me receive an open trial, for my truth shall fear 
no open shame ; then shall you see either my innocency cleared, 
your suspicion and conscience satisfied, the ignominy and slander 
of the world stopped, or my guilt openly declared. So that, 
whatsoever God or you may determine of me. Your Grace may 
be freed from an open censure ; and mine offence being so law- 
fully proved. Your Grace is at liberty, both before God and man, 
not only to execute worthy punishment on me as an unlawful 
wife, but to follow your affection already settled on that party 
for whose sake I am now as I am, whose name I could some 
good while since have pointed unto : Your Grace being not igno- 
rant of my suspicion therein.* But if you have already deter- 
mined of me, and that not only my death, but an infamous slan- 
der must bring you the enjoying of your desired happiness; then 
I desire of God, that he will pardon your great sin therein, and 
likewise mine enemies, the instruments thereof; and that he 
will not call you to a strict account for your unprincelyand cruel 
usage of me, at his general judgment-seat, where both you and 

* This passage confirms the account given in Wiatt. 



308 ANNE'S DEPORTMENT. 

myself must shortly appear, and in whose judgment, I doubt 
not (whatsoever the world may think of me), mine innocence 
shall he openly known, and sufficiently cleared. My last and 
only request shall he, that myself may only bear the burthen of 
Your Grace's displeasure, and that it may not touch the inno- 
cent souls of those poor gentlemen, who (as I understand) are 
likewise in strait imprisonment for my sake. If ever I have 
found favour in your sight; if ever the name of Anne Boleyn 
hath been pleasing in your ears, then let me obtain this request ; 
and I will so leave to trouble Your Grrace any farther, with mine 
earnest prayers to the Trinity to have Your Grace in his good 
keeping, and to direct you in all your actions. From my dole- 
ful prison in the Tower, this sixth of May. 

^^ Your most loyal and 

ever faithful wife, 

^^Anne Boleyn." 

On her first commitment to the Tower, Anne betrayed strong 
alternations of feeling : sometimes fancied she should regain the 
King's heart, and that he merely tried her faith; sometimes, 
with passionate vehemence, desired that her Bishops should in- 
tercede in her favour : and there were moments when she even 
seemed to expect that Heaven, by a supernatural interposition, 
should avouch her innocence. After her second examination, 
these transports subsided, and, on receiving the King's last 
message, every earthly hope, almost every earthly feeling, seemed 
extinguished : and, by the effort of despair, she rose above the 
frailties, almost beyond the sufferings, of humanity. It is not 
known who were her legal advisers ; but she was allowed no 
advocate, and debarred from all intercourse with her parents. 
At this privation, however, she appears not to have repined. 



HER TRIAL. 309 

either because slie dared not expose her firmness to the trial of 
meeting an afflicted mother, and, perhaps, self-accusing father, 
or because she dreaded lest they should be involved in her fate. 
For some days preceding her trial, she preserved cheerfulness 
and composure; with much animation persisting in her inno- 
cence. In the meantime unremitted efforts were made by the 
King's agents to extort further evidence ; and it is even upon 
record, that the solitary confession of Smeton was not deemed 
sufficient to dear the King's honour f'' but it was in vain that 
bribes or menaces were employed for the subornation of Anne's 
women : even those by whom she was least loved had nothing 
to allege against her; the perjuries of Lady Rochford had fur- 
nished no substantial evidence ; and all that malice and treachery 
could effect, was but to elicit something of a treasonable con- 
struction from the Queen's conversation with Norris, in which 
she had spoken of the King's probable dissolution. The fate 
of the other culprits had been already decided at Westminster."}" 
At length, on the memorable 15th of May, a judicial court 
was erected in the King's Hall,J within the Tower, for the trial 
of the Queen and her brother. At this tribunal presided the 
Dake of Norfolk; on his right hand sat the Lord Chancellor, 

■^ Sir "William Baynton -writes to Sir William Fitzwilliams: — " Tliis 
shall be to advertise you, that here is much communication, that no 
man -svill confess any thing, but only Mark of any actual thing : ■where- 
fore, in my foolish conceit, it should much touch the King's honour, 
if it should no further appear." Burnet. 

I Norris, Weston, Brcreton, and Smeton. Of the two last nothing is 
known, but that they were ti-ied and condemned. Against Norris, 
Weston, and Brereton, no other evidence was produced than the per- 
jury of Smeton. 

% This apartment was still in existence till the year 1778. 



310 THE TRIAL. 



^ 



the Duke of Suffolk on his left ; before him the Earl of Surrey, 
as Earl-marshal of England : to these were joined the Duke of 
Richmond and twenty-four other peers, among whom was the 
Earl of Northumberland; the juvenile lover of Anne Boleyn.* 
At the appointed hour came the Queen, divested of royal state, 
neatly and plainly attired ; with no other attendants than Lady 
Kingston and Lady Edward Boleyn. Being placed in a chair, 
she bowed respectfully to the assembly, who were irresistibly 
won by her modest countenance and dignified deportment. 
Among the strangers admitted to this court were the Lord Mayor, 
certain distinguished citizens (doubtless those devoted to the 
King's pleasure), and some few gentry. 

For the first time in the annals of English history, a queen 
was dragged before a criminal tribunal. Even Henry the Eighth 
might, perhaps, have scrupled so to degrade a lady of royal birth 
or princely connections; but he was conscious that Anne had 
neither friends nor protectors, and was wholly left to his mercy 
or his vengeance. The indictment being read, the Queen held 
up her hand, and pleaded not guilty. The charge was then 
opened, and accusations too monstrous to be detailed, and too 
contradictory to be credited, were unblushingly rehearsed before 
the astonished audience. In the first instance, something was 
attempted to be proved from the pretended confession of a cer- 
tain Lady Wingfield, who had, it was alleged, on her death-bed 
disclosed disgraceful circumstances of the Queen's life ; but this 
posthumous forgery, evidently intended to introduce the other ac- 

■^ It slioiild be remai-ked, that tliis numbei' included but half the 
peerage of England ; an additional proof, if any were wanting, that 
the jury was composed of such as should not venture to thwart the 
King's pleasure. 



THE TRIAL. 311 

cusation, was unsupported by the least evidence. To disguise 
tlie weakness of the cause^ an elaborate charge was exhibited 
against her; but the five confederates in guilt annihilate the 
belief that even one paramour existed ; and it is obvious that 
three of those five gentlemen were committed, not so much to 
establish the queen's guilt, as to preclude them from vindicat- 
ing her innocence. To the revolting calumnies proclaimed 
against her, Anne listened with dignity; and, without losing 
self-possession, calmly replied to each specific charge. Of the 
witnesses produced, the depositions were vague and nugatory. 
The prisoner looked in vain for Smeton, against whose perjuries 
it was not deemed expedient to oppose her appeals to justice. 
At length the prosecution closed, and Anne, unassisted by either 
counsel or advocate, undertook her own defence in an eloquent 
and able speech, which, as appears by an authentic document,* 
excited a general expectation of acquittal ; but a difi'crent im- 
pression was created in the bosom of the prisoner, who beheld 
among her judges, not merely her enemies, but the slaves of a 
tyrant's will. With the Dukes of Norfolk and Sufi"olk were as- 
sociated the young Duke of Richmond (who had been taught to 
prejudge the cause), and the Chancellor Audley, who was 

* *' Having an excellent quick wit, and being a ready speaker, she 
did so answer to all objections, that had the peers given in their ver- 
dict according to the expectations of the assembly, she should have 
been acquitted ; but they, among whom the Duke of Suffolk, the King's 
brother-in-law, was chief and wholly applying himself to the King's 
humour, pronounced her guilty : whereupon the Duke of Norfolk was 
bound to proceed according to the verdict of the Peers, and comlemncd 
her to death, either by being burnt on the Tower Green, or beheaded, 
as His Majesty in his pleasure should think fit."— MS. Account in the 
Harleian Miscellany. 



312 ANNE'S SPEECH. 

required to make law consistent with injustice. Among these 
lords she distinguished her well-wisher Cromwel, and Henry 
Earl of Nothumberland. The latter sat with ill-disguised agita- 
tion^ and at length, on the plea of indisposition;, abruptly quitted 
the apartment before the peers had pronounced the fatal verdict. 
In hearing her sentence, and that she should be burnt or be- 
headed, Anne preserved an undismayed countenance; and, ac- 
cording to the testimony of an eye-witness, lifting up her hands, 
emphatically exclaimed, " Father ! Creator ! Thou art the 
way, and the truth, and the life : Thou knowest that I have not 
deserved this death.^^ Then turning herself to her judges, and 
looking at her uncle, the Duke of Norfolk, the Lord High Ste- 
ward, she said, ^^ My Lord, I will not say that your sentence is 
unjust, nor presume that my appeal ought to be preferred to the 
judgment of you all. I believe you have reason and occasion 
of suspicion and jealousy, upon which you have condemned me ; 
but they must be other than those produced here in court ; for 
I am entirely innocent of all these accusations, so that I cannot 
ask pardon of Grod for them. I have been always a faithful and 
loyal wife to the King ; I have not, perhaps, at all times shown 
him that humility and reverence that his goodness to me, and 
the honour to which he raised me, did deserve. I confess I 
have had fancies and suspicions of him, which I had not strength 
nor discretion to resist ; but Grod knows, and is my witness, that 
I never failed otherwise towards him, and I shall never confess 
any otherwise."* 

* This is an extract from a letter written by a Erencli gentleman, 
residing at that time in London, which is inserted in Meteren's Historia 
Belgica, and appears entitled to at least as much credit as any other 
historical document of the transaction. It should be observed, that 



CAUSE OF CONDEMNATION. 313 

It is not clear on what grounds Anne Boleyn was convicted.* 
It is certain that the evidence to support the charge of adultery 
failed^f and that it was rather treason which was pretended to be 
proved against her. The lawyers of that age were practised in 
casuistry for entrapping innocence and perverting justice. Wiatt 
conjectures that Anne was in reality condemned on the authority 
of some old law, or by a dexterous misapplication of the statutej 

this account agrees in every important circumstance with the brief 
detail preserved among the Harleian MSS., and published in Mar- 
grave's State Trials. Both ascribe to Anne perfect self-possession and 
persuasive eloquence, and both agree in representing her as persisting 
in her innocence. 

* The indictment charged her with having conspired against the 
King's life. In the case of Queen Catharine Howard, the fact of 
adultery was simply stated ; but much circumlocution was employed 
to array in terror the vague and contradictory charges against Anne 
Boleyn. It is not pretended that either of her paramours was beloved, 
but that she ambitiously desired, by their means, to rule in the realm 
after the King's death, whose life was therefore presumed to be in 
danger ; and in effect, as has been remarked by Dr. Lingard, he re- 
ceived a parliamentary congratulation for his escape from the supposed 
conspiracy. Although the original records of the trial have been de- 
stroyed, sufficient evidence remains to warrant the conclusion, that 
Anne was accused by perjury, and convicted by tyranny. See Statutes 
of the Kealm. 

I Of contemporary chroniclers, Polydore Virgil alone pretends that 
she was detected in her guilt ; an assertion manifestly refuted by the 
positive evidence of Kingston and Cromwel, without referring to his- 
torical documents. 

J "And I may say, by their leaves, it seems themselves they doubted 
their proofes would prove their reproofes, when they durst not bringe 
them to the proofe of the light in open place. For this principal matter 

27 



314 CAUSE OF CONDEMNATION. 

lately passed to insure lier personal protection ; namely, that by 
wliicli it was declared treason to slander the king's issue by Anne 

betweene the Queene and her brother, ther was brought forth indeede 
witnes, his -wicked wife, accuser of her owne husband, even to the seek- 
ing of his blood, which I believe is hardly to be shewed of any honest 
woman, ever done ; but of her, the judgment that fel out upon her, 
and the just punishment by law after, of her haughtiness, shew that 
what she did was more to be rid of him, then of true ground against 
him ; and that it seemeth those noble men, that went upon the Queen's 
life, found in her trial, when it may appear plainly by that defence of 
the knight, that oft hath been here mentioned, that the young noble 
man, the Lord Eochford, by the common opinion of men of best under- 
standing, in thos days, was counted and then openly spoken, con- 
demned only upon some point of a statute of words, then in force. 
And this and sondrie other reasons have made me think often, that 
upon some clause of the same law, they grounded their colour also 
against her, and that for other matters she had cleared herself wel 
enough. It seemeth some greate ones, then had in their hands in 
drawinge in that law to entangle, or bridle one another, and that some 
of them were taken in the same net, as good men then thought worthely. 
Surely my Lord Cromwel and that younge lorde were taken in those 
entanglements, and the knight himself of whome is spoken, had hardly 
scapt it, as may apeere by his defence, if he had not by the well de- 
livering of the goodnes of his cause, broken through it. And this may 
wel serve to admonish men, to be wel aware how far they admit law, 
that shall touch life, upon construction of words, or at the lest, admit- 
tinge them, how far they leave to lawyers to interpret of them, and 
especially that thereby they give not excuse to juries to condemn the 
innocent, when sway of times should thrust matters upon them. Thus 
was she put upon her trial by men of great honor ; it had bin good 
also if some of them had not bin to be suspected of too much power^ 
and no less malice. The evidence was heard indeed ; but close enough, 
as inclosed in strong walls ; yet to shew the truth cannot by any force 



THE SUCCESSION. 315 

Boleyn. However this might be, Henry's passions carried him 
still farther ; it was not enough that he should destroy his wife, 
he must even illegitimate her offspring, lest Jane Seymour also 
should bring into the world a daughter, to be supplanted by her 
elder sister Elizabeth. To secure himself from this contingency, 
he caused his marriage with Anne to be annulled, on the plea 
of her pre-contract with the Earl of Northumberland, in spite of 
that nobleman's protestations to the contrary. Whether Anne 
acknowledged the contract is questionable 3* although she ap- 
pears to have admitted that certain impediments had existed to 
her marriage : but this extorted concession should rather be 
attributed to a generous solicitude for her family, than to any 
terrors inspired by the punishment with which she was menaced, 
a weakness never imputed to her by contemporary writers. 
Much speculation has been expended on Henry's motives for this 
supplemental vengeance ; but was it not consistent with his 
character, that he should secure the crown to the posterity of his 
intended queen ? Is it not also likely that the Duke of Norfolk, 
who constantly desired the reunion of England with the church 

be altogether kept in Iiolde, some belike of those honorable personages 
then, more perhaps for countenance of others' evil than for means by 
their own authority to doo good, which also peradventure would not 
have bin, without their own certain perils, did not yet forbear to de- 
liver out voices, that caused every where to be muttered abroad, that 
that spotless Queene in her defence had cleered herself with a most 
wise and noble speech. 

"Notwithstanding such a trial, such a judgment found her guiltie, 
and gave sentence of death upon her at home, whom others abrodc, 
living to feel her los, found guiltles." — Wiatt's Life of the renowned 
Queen Ann Bolen. 

* See Lingard's History of Henry the Eiglith. 



316 ANNE AFTER HER CONDEMNATION. 

of KomG; should suggest an expedient wliich apparently removed 
the great and only insuperable impediment to mutual reconci- 
liation ? - -^ 

After her condemnation, no dejection was visible in Anne's 
deportment.* Much of her time was spent in devotion ; yet she 
often conversed with her wonted grace and animation ; she quoted 
her favourite passages of poetry, and more than once recited 
lines from Wiatt's verses. The contemplation of her approach- 
ing dissolution no longer inspired terror ; from the moment that 
her days were numbered, she appeared to dismiss all sublunary 
cares, to forget all personal sorrows ; even on the 17th of May, 
when her brother and his unfortunate companions were execu- 
ted, f she betrayed no violent emotion ; and Kingston was sur- 
prised into the confession, that he had never before seen man or 
woman, who, like tJiis lady^ rejoiced in the prospect of death. 
On one occasion only was this happy composure suspended. By 
a refinement of cruelty, neither her father nor her mother had 
been permitted to approach her prison ; and it is even possible 
she was far from wishing to bid them an eternal farewell ; but 
she must have passionately desired to behold once more her 
child, in whose smiling countenance she might yet read some 
fair presage of futurity. Sensible that this rejected daughter 
would be left dependent on the capricious kindness of a step- 
mother, she recollected with grief and compunction the occa- 
sional harshness with which she had herself treated the Princess 
Mary ; and, hoping perhaps to avert from her own Elizabeth the 
experience of those hardships she now believed she had inflicted 

^ See the five letters from Kingston to Cromwel, published in Strype. 
f Lord Rochford and his fellow-sufferers were executed on that day, 
on a scaffold without the Tower. 



CONVERSATION WITH KINGSTOJ^. 317 

on her elder sister, she prostrated herself at Lady Kingston's 
feet, compelled her to assume the chair of state, which still 
remained in her chamber, and to listen to an unreserved confes- 
sion of whatever trespasses her conscience acknowledged towards 
that princess ; nor would she rise from that humble posture till 
she had obtained from Lady Kingston a solemn promise, that 
she would in like manner prostrate herself before Mary, and 
never desist from supplication till she should have drawn from 
her lips a declaration of forgiveness. In this last conflict, when 
all the native sensibility of Anne Boleyn's character burst forth, 
it is scarcely possible to conceive that she would have incurred 
the guilt of perjury, by persisting in unauthorized asseverations 
of innocence. After an affecting scene with Lady Kingston, 
she continued to commune with her almoner till midnight. In 
the morning she arose with a serene aspect; and, on seeing 
Kingston, expressed regret that her execution was deferred till 
noon, adding, ^'I had hoped by this time the pain would be 
over." Kingston replied, " It would be no pain, — the heads- 
man's stroke was so subtle." " True," returned she, ^^ and I 
hear he has an excellent sword, and I have a little neck;" and, 
putting her hand to her throat, she laughed heartily ; as if she 
wished to show that she equally despised fear, and disdained 
pity. But this occasional pleasantry did not suspend her serious 
reflections ; and she entreated Kingston to be present when she 
received the sacrament, that he might hereafter attest her pro- 
testations of innocence. Nor did her resolution falter when the 
fatal moment drew nigh, and when she for ever quitted that 
chamber in which she had been alternately lodged as a brilliant 
bride and a desolate prisoner.* By a prudent precaution, stran- 

* Anne Boleyn is traditionally believed to have been confined in a 
27 * 



318 ANNE'S EXECUTION. 



.an m\ 



gers had been dismissed from the Tower, and not more than 
thirty persons were admitted to witness the catastrophe. By 
one of those few spectators, we are assured, that the queen ap- 
proached the platform* with perfect composure ; that her counte- 
nance was cheerful, and retained all its wonted pre-eminence of 
beauty. As she advanced to the spot, she had to detach herself 
from her weeping attendants, whom she vainly attempted to 
reconcile to her destiny. Among these, the most cherished was 
Wiatt's sister, with whom Anne continued in earnest conversa- 
tion till the parting moment, and then presented to her, with a 
benignant smile, a small manuscript prayer-book, which the 
afflicted friend was ever after accustomed to lodge in her bosom, 
as a sacred relic of imperishable attachment, j* To each of her 
other companions she made a similar bequest, beseeching them 
not to grieve, because she was thus doomed to die, but rather to 
pardon her for not having always treated them with becoming 
mildness : then, ascending the scaffold, she addressed a few words 
to the spectators, of which the following is said to have been 
the purport : — " Friends, and good Christian people, I am here 
in your presence to suffer death, whereto I acknowledge myself 

room in Beauchamp's tower ; but it appears by Kingston's letters that 
she was in the Lieutenant's lodgings, where she was attended by his 
wife, and other individuals of her own sex. — See Bailey's History of 
the Antiquities of the Tower. 

* The platform was erected on the Tower Green, now designated the 
Parade, and must have been nearly opposite to the Lieutenant's 
lodgings. 

f It is pleasing to revert to the faithful attachment long preserved 
by the Wiatts for the memory of Anne Boleyn. The little biographical 
tract so often referred to was compiled from traditional records by a 
member of that family. 



ANNE'S EXECUTION. 319 

adjudged by law, bow justly I will not say : I intend not an 
accusation of any one. I beseecb tbe Almigbty to preserve bis 
Majesty long to reign over you : a more gentle or mild prince 
never swayed sceptre.* His bounty towards me batb been 
special. If any one intend an inquisitive survey of my actions, 
I entreat tbem to judge favourably of me, and not rasbly to 
admit any censorious conceit ; and so I bid tbe world farewell, 
beseecbing you to commend me in your prayers to God.'^ This 
speech she uttered with a smiling countenance : then, uncovering 
her neck, she knelt down, and fervently ejaculated, " To Jesus 
Christ I commend my soul !" But though her head was meekly 
submitted to the axe, the intrepidity with which she refused the 
bandage,"!" delayed the accomplishment of her sentence; the 
touching expression of her eyes disarmed, for the moment, her 
executioner, and it was at length by stratagem that he seized the 
moment for giving the stroke of death. At this crisis, an excla- 
mation of anguish burst from the spectators, which was quickly 
overpowered by the discharge of artillery announcing the event, 
the last royal honour offered to the memory of Anne Boleyn. 
What report was made of her execution to Henry is unknown : 
but he was perhaps somewhat appeased by the gentle, submissive 
demeanor displayed in this awful scene ', and, as from her know- 
ledge of his character she had probably anticipated, soon restored 
to her daughter a large portion of his paternal favour. 

* An acknowledgment of the King's goodness appears to have been 
the form generally used by culprits at the place of execution. The 
Duke of Buckingham also spoke of the King's clemency. It is, however, 
proper to remark, that many discrepancies appear in contemporary 
chronicles, and that it is probable no faithful transcript of Anne's speech 
was ever published. 

f See note at tlie end of tlie volume. 



320 CONCLUSION. 

It was not without reason that Anne committed the vindication 
of her fame to time and truth. The citizens believed her de- 
stroyed by the intrigues of the court. The nobility^ when they 
beheld Jane Seymour, on the next Whit-Sunday, invested with 
royal pageantry, could not but feel she had been sacrificed to the 
King's passions. The Catholics discerned in this tragedy the 
judgment of Heaven ; the Protestants detected the machinations 
of the Pope and the Emperor. Perhaps the remote source of 
her misfortunes might be traced to superstition operating on the 
arbitrary spirit of Henry the Eighth, alarmed by the prediction 
that the Tudors should not retain the sceptre of England, and 
yet inflexibly bent on transmitting the crown to his immediate 
posterity. To whatever cause might be ascribed the calamitous 
fate of Anne Boleyn, that it was unmerited appears to have been 
generally allowed by all but the bigots whom she had offended, or 
the mercenary courtiers who basked in the sunshine of royal 
favour. But these convictions were stifled by slavish devotion 
to kingly power, till the subsequent exposure of Lady Eochford's 
infamy extorted a tardy acknowledgment of the injustice to 
which the most beneficent of queens had been sacrificed. As 
the principles of the Reformation gained ground, the people be- 
came more sensible of their obligations to the woman who had 
ever warmly supported the cause of humanity and truth ; and, 
although her remains were left to neglect, her charities could 
not be consigned to oblivion : her munificence was her monument ; 
her expanded sympathies, her open-handed bounty, her enlight- 
ened beneficence, all conspired to fix on Henry's ferocious despot- 
ism an indelible stain of infamy ; and the enthusiasm which accom- 
panied Elizabeth to the throne was, in part at least, a tribute of 
gratitude and tenderness to the ill-fated Anne Boleyn. 



SUPPLEMENTAL REMARKS 



ON THE 



BOLEYNS. 



To the Boleyns, no motto could have been so appropriate as that 
assumed by the House of Courtenoy, vbi lapsi/s — quid feci? Tlieir 
rise had been slow and gradual ; their fall was rapid and irretrievable, 
and after the death of Anne they never recovered dignity and im- 
portance. 

The Earl of Wiltshire survived his ill-fated children but two years, 
and died, in 1538, at Hever, in whose parochial church his tomb is still 
pointed out to the curious visiter. For the countess, contrary to her 
daughter's predictions, was reserved a longer term of existence; and, 
eventually, she lived to witness the death or disgrace of the majority 
of those peers who sat in judgment on her daughter. The Earl of 
Northumberland had soon followed the object of his juvenile affection 
to the grave, overwhelmed with shame and sorrow for the execution of 
his brother. Sir Thomas Percy, who had been involved in Aske's re- 
bellion. Cromwel and Surrey perished on the scaffold ; and the Duke 
of Norfolk was immured in the Tower, ere the remains of Anne's 
mother were consigned to the tomb of her ancestors, in the chapel at 
Lambeth, with this brief monumental inscription : 

"Elizabeth Howard, some time Countess of Wiltsliire." 

Mary Boleyn, her younger daughter, died in 1546, at Rochford Hall, 
Essex, leaving two children: a daxighter, afterwards married to Sir 
Francis Knollys, and a son, Henry Carey, created Baron of Hunsdon 
by Queen Elizabeth, in whose brilliant circle he was distinguished as 
the honest courtier. "The politicans," says Loyd, " followed Cecil ; 
the courtiers, Leicester ; and the soldiers, Hunsdon." The same author 
relates of him the following anecdote: — ""When his retinue, wliicb, in 
those times, was large, would have drawn on a gentleman that had re- 

(321) 



322 THE BOLEYNS. 

turned tim a box on the ear, he forbade them in these soldier-like 
■words : ' You rogues ! cannot my neighbour and myself exchange a 
box on the ear, but you must interfere ?' " It was expected that he 
should be created Earl of Ormond or Wiltshire; and his approved 
loyalty and valour might have challenged from Elizabeth a higher re- 
compense than the restoration of those dignities. On his deathbed, 
when the letters-patent for the earldom were offered to his acceptance, 
he exclaimed, with his wonted frankness, " If I was unworthy of these 
honours when living, I am unworthy of them now I am dying ! "* 

The sons of this gallant nobleman enjoyed favour and consideration 
with James the First, and some of his female descendants married into 
noble families ; but the fortunes of their house declined, and the col- 
lateral branches of the Boleyns, in Kent and Norfolk, sunk into quiet 
obscurity. -j- 

It was impossible that the name of Anne Boleyn, or the memory of 
her misfortunes, should be consigned to oblivion. Traditions of her 
sufferings and her virtues were still generally and willingly received, 
and various metrical tales or ballads, founded on her tragical story, 
sufficiently evince that she continued to be an object of popular sym- 
pathy. 

In the number of those poems which have been delicated to her 
memory, the most remarkable is the following dirge, written in the 
reign of Henry the Eighth, which has been attributed to her own pen, 
but may, with more probability, be traced to Wiatt, or his accom- 
plished sister, Margaret Lee : — 

* The fourth lineal descendant of this gallant peer was ci'eated Viscount Roch- 
foi'd, and Earl of Dover. In 1677, the earldom and viscounty being extinct, Sir 
Robert £!arey became sixth Lord Hunsdon. In 1765, William. Ferdinand Carey, 
the eighth Lord Hunsdon, dying without issue, the title again became extinct. 
The following inscription to the memory of a female descendant of Lord Hunsdon 
confirms the fact that Mary Boleyn was the younger sister of the unfortunate Anne 
Boleyn : — 

"Here lieth the body of the most virtuous and prudent Lady Elizabeth, Lady 
Berkeley, widow, daughter, and sole heir of George Carey, Lord Hunsdon, son and 
heir of Henry Carey, Lord Hunsdon, son and heir of William Carey and the Lady 
Mary his wife; second daughter and co-heir of Thomas Bnllen, Earl of Ormond 
and Wiltshire, father also of Queen Anne Bullen, M^ife to King Henry the Eighth, 
mother of Queen Elizabeth, late Queen of England ; which Lady Bericeley, after her 
pious pilgrimage of 59 years, surrendered her soul into the hands of her Redeemer, 
the 23d day of April, 1635." — Collier's Peerage, edited by Sir Egerton Brydges. 

f In Lamboard's Perambulations in Kent, published towards the middle of the 
seventeenth century, no mention is made of the Boleyns, so long tlie lords of Hever 
Castle. 



THE BOLEYNS. 323 

Doleful Complaint'^ of Anne Boleyn. 

Defiled is my name full sore, 

Through cruel spite and false report, 
That I m:iy say for evermore, 

Farewell my joy — adieu comfort : 
For wrongfully ye judge of me, 

Unto my fame a mortal wound ; 
Say what ye list, it ■will not be, 
Ye seek for that cannot be found. 
Oh, death ! rock me on sleep. 

Bring me on quiet rest ; 
Let pass my very guiltless ghost 
Out of my careful breast. 
Toll on the passing bell, 

Ring out the doleful knell, 
Let the sound of my death tell ; 
For I must die, 
There is no remedy. 
For now I die. 

My pains, who can express ? 

Alas! they are so strong, 
My dolour will not suffer strength 
My life for to prolong. 
Toll out the passing bell ; 
Alone in prison strong, 

I wail my destiny. 
AVorth, worth this cruel hap, that I 
Should taste this misery ! 

Toll out the passing bell, 

Ring out the doleful knell. 
Let the sound of my death tell ; 

For I must die, 

There is no remedy. 
And now I die. 

Farewell, my pleasures past; 
AVelcome, my present pain : 
I feel my torments so increase, 
That life cannot remain. 
Cease now the passing bell; 
Rung is my doleful knell ; 
For the sound my death doth tell, 
Death ! draw nigh. 

In another poem composed in the middle of the seventeenth century, 
is contained a traditional history of Anne Boleyn, -which represents 
her as having sacrificed to her ambition an early and sincere attachment. 

' This poem, first published m Hawkins's ULstory of Music is confessedly of th© 
age of Arme Boleyn. 



324 THE BOLEYNS. 

They did her conduct to a tower of stone, 
Whereas she should wail and lament her alone, 
And condemned be, for help there was none ; 
Lo, such "was her fortune ! 

She said, I came in once at this portail 
Like a queen to receive a crown imperial j 
Now I conie to receive a crown immortal, 
Lo, such is my fortune. 

Tor mine offences I am full of w^oe : 

Oh ! would I had hurt iriyself, and no mo, 
I had been well an I done so ; 
But such is my fortune. 

All they that followed my line, 
And to my favour did incline. 
Well may they weep and band the time 
That I found such fortune. 

I had a lover stedfast and true ; 
Alas ! that ever I changed for new. 
I could not remember full sore anew 
To have now this fortune. 

But though I have my time mispent, •< 

Yet give me not no misjudgraent, 
If God be pleased, be you content, 
Beholding my fortune.* 

The lover alluded to was, probably, Henry Percy ; but, in reality, 
Anne merited not the reproach of inconstancy ; having been compelled 
to relinquish that engagement : and there is no reason to believe she 
ever formed another. Among the historians and chroniclers of the day, 
her character and conduct are uniformly praised or censured according 
to the religious or political tenets of the respective writers. It is, 
however, worthy of remark, that all contemporary English chroniclers 
have either openly asserted or tacitly acknowledged her innocence; 
and the value of their testimony is not a little enhanced by the re- 
flection that the major part of them could have had no personal 
motives to bias their partiality or warp their judgment. Cavendish 
composed his MS. in the reign of Mary. Hall published under the 
auspices of Edward the Sixth and the Seymours. Speed wrote under 
another dynasty, to whom the vindication of Anne Boleyn's fame must 
have been perfectly indifferent. Among the earlier historians, the 
Bishop of St. Alban's and Lord Herbert are decidedly in her favour. 

* The whole of this poem will be found in Dr. Nott's Life of Sir Thomas Wiatt. 



THE BOLEYNS. 325 

The life of Queen Anne Boleyn, by Wiatt, though confessedly pane- 
gyrical, derives considerable importance from the light which it throws 
on several traditional passages of Fox, Heylin, and Sanders ; and from 
the elucidation it occasionally aflfords of certain strange and other- 
wise inexplicable calumnies. In his Statesmen and Favourites of 
England, Loyd incidentally repels the accusations of certain Catholic 
writers; and as he enjoyed peculiar opportunities of obtaining infor- 
mation respecting the age of Henry the Eighth, his authority is un- 
questionably entitled to respect.* 

It is not surprising that the ostensible heroine of Protestantism 
should have been grossly misrepresented by Spanish and Italian wri- 
ters, the inveterate foes of heresy, and the bigoted defenders of the 
orthodox faith. But it has been observed, that even the more tempe- 
rate French historians have equally impeached the honour and nuptial 
fidelity of Anne Boleyn ; and that it appears uncandid to fix on them, 
generally and nationally, the stigma of deliberate and systematic in- 
justice. In answer to this objection, we have only to remark, that the 
French, in common with those Spanish and Italian writers in whose 
prejudices they participated, have either substituted conjectures for 
facts, or derived their information from suspicious authorities, in direct 
opposition to more credible relations, and even to positive evidence. 
By some, the guilt of Anne Boleyn is assumed, on the pretext, that 
she was educated in the corrupt court of France, forgetting that this 
corruption of manners became not general till after the period of her 
childhood ; and that on such questions hypothetical deductions cannot 
be admitted as historical trviths. By others, her infamy is triumphantly 
proclaimed, on the evidence of Sanders, Marot, or Polydore Virgil, 
whose malicious or venal fabrications have been repeatedly contro- 
verted and refuted. It is a cui-ious fact, that the misfortunes of Mary 
Stuart have perpetuated the wrongs of Anne Boleyn : the first cham- 
pions of that ill-fated queen avenged her cause, by traducing the 
mother of her triumphant rival, and, from similar motives, the parti- 
sans of the exiled house of Stuart have continued to blacken her 
memory as the original promoter of heresy and the Reformation. The 
expulsion of the Stuarts might, with some plausibility, be traced to 
the personal agency of Anne Boleyn. The schism of England, by 
abolishing papal supremacy, extended the kingly power beyond its an- 

' Of Bishop Burnet, in common vi^ith some other Protestants, it may be affirmed, 
that in his zeal to defend the honour of Henry the Eighth, he tacitly admits, that 
Anne had given some colour to his jealousy. Strype appears consistent and sincere. 
Fox is the advocate, Camdon the admirer, Collier the friend of Anne Boleyn. 

28 



326 THE BOLEYNS. 

cient limits ; and Henry the Eighth founded, on the doctrine of rights 
sacred and divine, an enormous authority, which crushed with its 
weight the succeeding dynasty, and thus led eventually to that happy 
Revolution which forms the true era of English liberty. Amidst the 
conflicts and distractions incident to religious feuds, it is a consolatory 
reflection that the Catholics, however aggrieved by the Reformation, 
soon participated in the benefits it was destined to confer on society. 
By the collision of powerful minds, a stronger impulse was given to the 
progress of knowledge and civilization. The emulation inspired by 
rival sects extorted correction for many of the abuses engrafted on the 
ancient system. In the monasteries, attention was directed to the edu- 
cation of youth. Among the parochial clergy, the genuine virtues of 
Christianity often took place of spurious piety ; and, but for the iu- 
fluence of political faction and intrigue, the virulence of parties might 
soon have yielded to a perception of mutual interests, and to the truly 
evangelical precept of charity and concord. . 



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APPENDIX. 329 

No. II. 
Rochford Hall and New Hall. 

RocHFORD, in Essex, is forty miles from London. Henry the Second 
gave the manor of Rochford to a Norman family, who from hence as- 
sumed the name of Rochford. Sir Guy de Rochford established a market 
at Rochford in 1247. John de Rochford succeeded his uncle Guy ; he 
was summoned by a quo warranto to appear before the King's Justices 
Itinerant, to show by what right he claimed wreck of sea, tumbrell, 
emendation or assize of beer and bread broken in Rochford : he boldly 
answered, "As for wreck of sea, that one John de Burgh, senior, 
granted to Guy his uncle, and that Henry had granted a charter for the 
other privileges, which he produced." The claim was established, and 
Rochford continued in his family till it became extinct. King Ed- 
ward the Third granted it to William de Borham, Earl of Northampton. 

Before the year 1512, King Henry the Eighth granted the reversion 
of the manors of Borham and Little Waltham, in Essex, to Sir Tho- 
mas Boleyn. 

The manor of Smeton, also in Essex, devolved on Sir Thomas Boleyn, 
in right of his mother Margaret, daughter and co-heiress of Thomas 
Earl of Ormond, who possessed landed property in England equivalent 
to 30,000^. per annum, exclusive of considerable demesnes in Ireland, 
and 40,000/. in money, besides valuable jewels. From his mother, 
Margaret, also. Sir Thomas Boleyn inherited the manor of Rodings, in 
the same county, and the manor of Legh or Lee ; also the manor of 
Hawskwell Hall. 

In 1522, King Henry granted the manor and advowson of Tabbing 
to Sir Thomas Boleyn. 

In 1535, Henry granted the manor of Ralegh, in Essex, to Sir Tho- 
mas Boleyn ; a sufficient proof that he had not then withdrawn his 
favour from his daughter Anne. King Henry the Eighth purchased of 
the Boleyns New Hall, in Essex. 

New Hall belonged to the crown till the queen granted it to Thomas 
RadcliflF Earl of Sussex, who bequeathed it to his brother, by whose 
son and successor it was sold to George Villiers, the infamous Duke of 
Buckingham, for 30,000/. ; it continued in that family till the civil 
wars, when it was sequestrated by Parliament ; and afterwards pur- 
chased by Oliver Cromwell, who, in 1643, exchanged it for Hampton 
Court ; and New Hall being again offered to sale, became the property 
of three opulent citizens, for the sum of 18,000/. On the Restoration, 
it reverted to the family of Villiers, and it was then transferred to 



330 APPENDIX. 



n 



Monk, Duke of Albemarle, who lived in it with great splendour. New- 
Hall continued in this family till 1734, when it was transferred, hj pur- 
chase, to Eichard Hoare, Esq., who resold it to John Olons, Esq., by 
whom the size of the edifice was consideralby diminished. According 
to tradition, Henry VIII. breakfasted in Epping Forest, contiguous to 
this palace, on the morning of Anne Boleyn's execution ; and, on 
hearing the signal-gun, exclaimed, with joy, — "Away I unkennel the 
hounds." — Moraji's History of Essex. 



No. III. 

The original French of the First Letter of Henry the Eighth 
to Anne Boleyn. 
[Extracted from the Harleian Miscellany.] 

Ma Maitresse et Amie; — moy et mon coeur s'en remettent en vos 
mains, vous suppliant les avoir pour recommander a votre bonne grace, 
et que par absence votre affection ne leur soit diminue. Car pur aug- 
menter leur peine, ce seroit grand pitie, car 1' absence leur fait assez, 
et plus que jamais je n'eusse pense, en nous faisant rementevoir un 
point d' astronomic, qui est tel, — tant plus loin que les Mores sont, tant 
plus eloigne est le soleil, et nonobstant plus fervent : aussi fait-il de 
notre amour ; par absence nous sommes eloignez, et neanmoins il garde 
sa ferveur, au moins de notre coste. Ay ant en espoir la pareille du 
votre, vous assurant que de ma part I'ennuye d'absence deja m'est trop 
grande, et quand je pense a I'augmentation de celuy que part force 
fault il que je soufre, il m'est presque intollerable, s'il n'estoit en 
ferme espoir que j'aye de votre indissoluble affection vers moy; et pur 
le vous rementevoir alcune fois cela, et voyant que personnellement je 
ne puis etre en votre presence, chose la plus approchante a cela qui 
m'est possible au present je vous envoye, c'est a dire, ma picture mis 
en brasselettes, a toute la devise que vous deja scavez, me souhaitant 
en leur place, quant il vous plairoit. C'est de la main de 

Votre serviteur et amy, 

H. R. 



APPENDIX. 331 

No. IV. 

Coronation of Anne Boleyn. 
[Extract from Stow.] 

On Saturday, the one-and-thirtieth day of May, the Queene was con- 
veyed through London in order as followeth ; — To the intent that horses 
should not slide on the pavement, nor that the people should be hurt 
by the horses, the high streets where through the Queene should passe 
were all gravelled, from the Tower unto Temple-barre, and rayled 
on each side; within which rayles stood the crafts along in their 
order from Gracechurch, where the merchants of the Stillyarde stoode, 
until the Little Conduit in the Cheape, where the aldermen stoode; 
and on the other side of the streete stood the constables of the city, 
apparelled in velvet and silkes, with great staves in their handes, to 
cause the people to give roome, and keep good order; and when the 
streets were somewhat ordered, the maior in a gown of crimson velvet, 
and a rich collar of esses, with two footmen clothed in white and red 
damaske, rode to the Tower, to give his attendance on the Queene, on 
whom the shei'iffs and their ofl&cers did awaite until they came to the 
Tower-hill, where the}'', taking their leave, rode down the high streets, 
commanding the constables to see roome, and good order kept, and so 
went and stood by the aldermen in Cheape: and before the Queene, 
with her traine, should come, Grace-street and Cornchill where 
hanged with fine scarlet, crimson, and other grained clothes, and in 
some places with rich arras ; and the most part of Cheape was hanged 
with cloth of tissue, gold, velvet, and many rich hangings, which did 
make a goodly shew ; and all the windows were replenished with ladies 
and gentlemen, to beholde the Queene and her traine as they should 
pass. 

The first of the Queene's company that set forward, were twelve 
Frenchmen belonging to the French ambassador, cloathed in coats of 
blue velvet, with sleues of yellow and blue velvet, their horses trapped 
with close trappers of blew sarsonet, powdred with white crosses : 
after them marched Gentlemen, Esquires, Knights, two and two : after 
them the Judges : after them the Knights of the Bathe, in violet gowns, 
with hoods pursed with miniver, like doctors. After them Abbotts, 
then Barons ; after them Bishops ; the Earls and Marquesses : then the 
Lord Chancellor of England ; after him the Archbishop of Yorkc, and 
the Ambassador of Venice ; after them the Archbishop of Canterbury, 
and the Ambassador of France ; after rode two Esquires of Honour, 
with robes of estate, rolled and worne baudrickewise about their necks, 



332 APPENDIX. 

•with caps of estate, representing the Dukes of Normandy and Aqui- 
taine ; after them rode the Lord William Howard, with the Marshall's 
rod, deputy to his brother the Duke of Norfolk, Marshall of England, 
who was ambassador then in France ; and on his righte hand rode 
Charles Duke of Suffolke, for that day high constable of England, 
bearing the warder of silver, appertaining to the ofi&ce of constable- 
ship ; and all the Lords for the most part were clothed in crimson 
velvet, and all the Queene's servants or ofiicers of armes in scarlet : 
next before the Queene rode her Chancellor, bareheaded, the Serjeants 
and officers at armes rode on both sides of the Lordes. Then came 
the Queene in a white litter of white cloth of gold, not covered or 
braided, whieh was led by two palfries clad in white damaske down to 
the ground, head and all, led by her footmen ; she had on a kirtle of 
white cloth of tissue, and a mantle of the same, furred with ermine, 
her hair hanging downe, but on her head she had a coif, with a circlet 
about it full of rich stones ; over her was borne k canopy of cloth of 
gold, with four gilt staves, and four silver belles ; for bearing of the 
which canopy were appointed sixteen Knights ; foure to bear it in one 
space on foote, and foure another space, and foure another space, accor- 
ding to their own appointment. Next after the Queene rode the Lord 
Browgh, her chamberlaine ; next after him William Coffin, master of 
her horses, leading a spare horse, with a side-saddle trapped down 
with cloth of tissue : after him rode seven ladies, in crimson velvet, 
turned up with cloth of gold and tissue, and their horses trapped with 
gold : after them two chariots, covered with red cloth of gold ; in the 
first chariot were two ladies, which were the old Dutchesse of Norfolk, 
the old Marchionesse of Dorset ; in the second chariot were four ladies 
all in crimson velvet ; after them rode seven ladies in the same suite, 
their horses trapped and all ; after them came the fourth chariot, all 
red, with eight ladies, also in crimson velvet : after whom followed 
thirty gentlewomen, all in.. velvet and silke, in the livery of their ladies, 
on whom they gave their attendance ; after them followed the guarde, 
in coates of goldsmith^'s worke, in which order they rode forth till 
they came to Fanchurch, where was made a pageant all of children, 
apparelled like merchants, which welcomed her to the cittie, with two 
proper propositions, both in French and in English : and from thence 
she rode towards Gracechurch corner, where was a costly and marvel- 
lous cunning pageant, made by the merchants of the Stillyard ; therein 
was the Mount Parnassus, with the fountain of Helicon, which was of 
white marble, and four streames without pipes did rise an ell high, and 
meet together in a little cup above the fountain, which fountain ran 



APPENDIX. 333 

abundantly witli rackt Reynish wyne till niglit. On the fountaine sate 
Apollo, and at his feete Calliope ; and on every side of the mountaine 
sate four muses, playing on several sweete instruments, and at their 
feete epigrams and poesies were written in golden letters, in the which 
every muse, according to her property, praysed the Queene. From 
thence the Queene with her traine passed to Leadenhall, where was a 
goodly pageant with a trippe and heavenly rose ; under the tippe was 
a goodly roote of golde set on a little mountaine, environed with red 
roses and white ; out of the tippe came down a faulcon, all white, and 
set upon the roote, and incontinently came downe an angel with great 
melodic, and set a close crowne of golde on the faulcon's head ; and in 
the same pageant sate St. Ann, with all her issue beneath her ; and 
under Mary Cleophe sate her four children, of which children one 
made a goodly oration to the Queene, of the fruitfulness of St. Ann, 
and of her generation, trusting that the like fruit would come of her. 
Then she passed to the conduit in Cornehill, where were the three 
Graces set on a throne, afore whom was the spring of grace continu- 
ally running wine ; afore the fountaine sate a poet, declaring the pro- 
perty of every grace ; that done, every ladie by herself, according to 
her propertie, gave the Queen, a several gift of grace. 

That done, she passed by the great conduit in Cheape, which was 
newly painted with armes and devices, out of which conduit (by a 
goodly fountaine set at the end) ranne continually wyne, both white 
^nd claret, all that afternoone ; and so she rode to the Standard, 
which was richly painted with images of Kinges and Queenes, and 
hanged with banners of armes, and in the top was marvellous sweete 
harmonic both of songs and instruments. 

Then she went forward by the crosse, which was newly gilt, till she 
came where the aldermen stood, and then Master Baker, the recorder, 
came to her with low reverence, making a proper and brief proposition, 
and gave to her, in the name of the cittie, a thousand markes in golde, 
in a golden purse, whiche she thankfully accepted with many good 
wordes, and so rode to the little conduite, where was a rich pageant 
of melody and songs, in which pageant were Pallas, Juno, and Ycuus, 
and afore them stood Mercuries, which, in the name of the three god- 
desses, gave unto her a ball of golde, divided in three, signifying three 
gifts, which these three goddesses gave her ; that is to say, wisdome, 
riches, and felicitie. 

As she entered into Paul's Gate, there was a pretty pageant, in which 
Bate three ladies, richly clauthed, and in a circle on their head was 
written Rcgina Anna, pro.tjycrc, jvocede ct regno. The lady in the midst 



334 APPENDIX. 

had a tablet, in which was written Veni, arnica, coronaheris ; and under 
the tahlett sat an angell with a close crowne. And the lady sitting 
on the right hand had a tablet of silver, in which was written, Domine 
dirige gressus meos ; and the third lady had a tablet of golde, with letters 
of azure, written Confido in Domino, and under their feet was written, 

Regina Anna par is regis de sanguine nata 
Et paries populis aurea soicla tuis. 

And these ladies cast down wafers, on whiche the said two verses were 
written. From thence she passed to the east end of Paul's church, 
against the schoole, where stood a scaffold, and children well apparelled, 
which said to her divers goodly verses of poets translated into English, 
to the honor of the Kinge and her, which she highly commended, and 
then she came to Ludgate, which gate was garnished with golde and 
bisse ; and on the leads of St, Martin's church stood a queere of sing- 
ing men and children, which sang new ballets made in praise of her 
Grace. After that shee was passed Ludgate, sliee proceeded toward 
Fleetstreet, where the conduit was newly painted, and all the armes 
and angels refreshed, and the shalmes melodiously sounding. Upon the 
conduit was a tower with foure turretts, and in every turrett stood one of 
the cardinal vertues, with their tokens and properties, which had severall 
speeches, promising the Queene never to leave her, but to be aiding and 
comforting her : and in the midst of the tower closely was severall solemn 
instruments, that it seemed to be a heavenly noyse, and was regarded 
and praysed ; and beside this the conduit ran wine, claret and red, all 
the afternoon : so she with her company, and the maior, rode forth to 
the Temple-bar, which was newly painted and repayred, where stood 
also divers singing men and children, till she came to Westminster-hall, 
which was richly hanged with cloth of arras, and newly glazed ; and 
in the middest of the hall she was taken out of her litter, and so let 
up to the high dais under the cloth of estate, on whose left hand was a 
cupboard of ten stages high, marvellous rich and beautiful to behold ; 
and within a little season was brought to the Queene, with a solemn 
service, in great standing spice-plates, a Toide of spice and subtleties, 
with ipocrasse, and other wines, which shee sent down to her ladies, 
and when the ladies had drunke, she gave hearty thanks to the lordes 
and ladies, and to the maior, and others that had given attendance on 
her, and so withdrew herselfe with a few ladies to Whitehall, and so 
to her chamber, and there shifted her ; and after went in her barge 
secretly to the Kinge to his manor of Westminster, where she rested 
that night. 



APPENDIX. 335 

On Whitsunday, the 1st of June, the maior, clad in crimson velvet, 
■with his collar, and all the aldermen and sheriffes in scarlet, and the 
counsell of the city, took their barge at the Crane by seven of the 
clocke, and came to Westminster, where they were welcomed and 
brought into the hall by M. Treasurer, and other the Kinge's house, and 
so gave their attendance till the Queene should come forth : between 
eight and nine of the clock she came into the hall, and stood under the 
cloth of estate, and then came in the Kinge's chappel, and the monks 
of Westminster, all in rich copes, and many bishops and abbots in copes 
and mitres, which went into the midst of the hall, and there stood a 
season ; then was there a ray cloth spread for the Queen's standing in 
the hall, through the palace and sanctuary, which rayled on both sides 
to the high altar of Westminster ; after the ray cloth was cast, the 
officers of armes appointed the order accustomed : first went Gentle- 
men, the Esquires, then Knights, the Aldermen of London, in their clokes 
of scarlet cast over their gownes of scarlet. After them the Judges, 
in their mantles of scarlet and coifes : then followed the Knights of 
the Bath, being no Lords, every man having a white lace on his left 
sleeve : then followed the Barons and Viscounts in their parliament 
robes of scarlet: after them came Earles, Marquesses, and Dukes, in 
their robes of estate of crimson velvet, furred with ermine, poudred 
according to their degrees ; after them came the Lord Chancellor in a 
robe of scarlet, open before, bordered with lettice ; after him came 
the Kinge's chappell, and the monkes solemnly singing with procession ; 
then came Abbots and Bishops mitred, then Sergeants and Officers at 
Armes ; then the Maior of London with his mace, and Garter, in his 
coate of armes : then the Marques Dorset, in his robe of estate, which 
bare the scepter of gold, and the Earl of Arundel, which bare the rod 
of ivorie, with the dove both together ; then alone the Earl of Oxford, 
high chamberlaine of England, which bare the crowne ; after him the 
Duke of Suffolk, in his robe of estate, for that day being high steward 
of England, having a white rod in his hand ; and the Lord William 
Howard, with the rod of the marshall-ship, and every Knight of the 
Garter had his collar of the order. 

Then proceeded forth the Queene, in a circotc and robe of purple 
velvet, furred with ermine, in her hayre coife and circlet as shee had 
on Saturday; and over her was borne the canopye, by foure of the 
cinque portes all in crimson, with points of blew and red hanging over 
their sleeves, and the Bishops of London and Winchester bare up the 
lappets of the Queene's robe ; and her train, which was very long, was 
borne by the old Duchesse of Norfolk ; after her followed Ladies, 



336 APPENDIX. 

Ibeing Lords' wives, -which had circotes of scarlet, with narrow sleeves, 
the breast all lettice, with barres of pouders, according to their 
degrees, and over that they had mantles of scarlet, furred, and every 
mantle had lettice abdut the necke, like a neckerchiefe, likewise pon- 
dered, so that by their pouderings their degrees might be knowne. 
Then followed Ladies, being Knights' wives, in gownes of scarlet, with 
narrow sleeves without traines, only edged with lettice ; likewise had 
all the Queene's gentlewomen. When she was thus brought to the high 
place made in the middest of the church between the queere and the 
high altar, she was set in a riche chaire, and after that she had rested 
awhile, shee descended downe unto the high altar, and there prostrated 
herself, while the Archbishop of Canterbury said certain collects over 
her. Then she rose, and the Archbishop anointed her on the head and 
on the breast : and then shee Was led up agayn to her chayre, where, 
after divers orisons said, the Archbishop satt the crown of St. Edward 
on her head, and then delivered her the scepter of golde in her right 
hand, and the rod of ivory, with the dove, in the left hand, and then 
all the queere sung Te Deum, &c. ; which done, the Bishop took off the 
crowne of St. Edward, being heavie, and sett on her heade the crowne 
made for her, and so went to masse ; and when the offering was began, 
she descended downe and offered, being crowned, and so ascended up 
againe, and sat in her chaire till Agnus was said, and then she went 
down and kneeled before the high altar, where shee received of the 
Archbishop the holy sacrament, and then went up to the place againe : 
after that mass was done, she went to St. Edward's shrine and there 
offered. After which offering was done, shee withdrew her into a little 
place made for that purpose on one side of the queere. Now in the 
meane season every Duchesse put on her bonnet a coronelle of golde 
wrought with flowers, and every Marchionesse put on a demi-coronell 
of golde wrought with flowers, and every Countesse a plain circle of 
golde wrought with flowers, and every King at Armes, put on a crowne 
of copper and gilt, all which were worne till night. 

When the Queene had a little reposed her, the company, in the same 
order that they set forth, and the Queene went crowned, and so did the 
ladies aforesaid : her right hand was sustained by the Earle of Wilt- 
shire, her father, and her left by the Lord Talbot, deputy for the Earle 
of Shrewsbury, and Lord Furnivall, his father. And when shee was 
out of the sanctuary within the pallace, the trumpets played marvey- 
lous freshly, and so shee was brought to Westminster-hall, and so to 
her withdrawing chamber, during which the Lordes, Judges, Maior, 
and Aldermen, put off their robes, mantles, and cloaks, and took their 



APPENDIX. 337 

hoods from their necks, and cast them about their shoulders, and the 
Lordes sate only in their sircotes, and the Judges and Aldermen in 
their gownes, and all the Lordes that served that day served in their 
sircotes, and their hoods about their shoulders. Also divers officers 
of the Kinge's house, being no Lordes, had circotes and hoods of scarlet 
edged with miniver, as Treasurer, Controller, and Master of the Jewell- 
house, but their circotes were not gilt. While the Queene was in her 
chamber, every Lord and other that ought to do service at the coro- 
nation, did prepare them according to their dutie, as the Duke of Suf- 
folke, High Steward of England, which was richly apparelled, his 
doublet and jacket set with orient pearle, his gowne crimson velvet 
embroidered, his courses clapped with close trapper head, and all to 
the ground crimson velvet, sett full of letters of golde of goldesmith's 
worke, having a long white rod in his hand ; on his left hand rode the 
Lord William, deputy for his brother, as Earle Marshall, with the 
Marshall's rod, whose gown was crimson and velvet, and his horse 
trapper purple velvet cutt on white sattine, embroidered with white 
lions. The Earle of Oxford was High Chamberlaine ; the Earle of 
Essex, carver ; the Earle of Sussex, sewer ; the Eai'le of Arundele, 
cliiefe butler, on whom twelve citizens of London did give their atten- 
dance at the cupboard ; the Earle of Darby, cup-bearer ; the Viscount 
Lisle, painter ; the Lord Burgeiny, chief larder ; the Lord Bray, almoner 
for him and his co-partners ; and the Maior of Oxford kept the buttery 
bar ; and Thomas Wiat was chosen ewerer, for Sir Henry Wiat, his 
father. 

"When all these things were ready and ordered, the Queene under her 
canopy came into the hall, and washed, and satte down in the middest 
of her table, under her cloth of estate : on the right side of her chaire 
stood the Countess of Oxford, widdow ; and on her left hand stood the 
Countesse of Worcester, all the dinner season, which divers times in 
the dinner time did hold a fine cloth before the Queen's face, when she 
list to spit, or do otherwise at her pleasure ; and at the table's end 
sate the Archbishoppe of Canterbury ; on the right hand of the Queene, 
and in the middest between the Archbishoppe and the Countesse of 
Oxford, stoode the Earle of Oxford, with a white staff, all dinner time. 

When all these things were thus ordered, came in the Duke of Suffolke, 
and the Lord William Howard, on horseback, and the Serjeants of 
Amies before them ; and after them the sewer, and then the Knights 
of the Bathe, bringing in the first course, which was eight-and-twenty 
dishes, besides subtilties, and shippes made of waxo, marveylous 
gorgeous to bcholde, all which time of service the trumpets standing 
29 



338 APPENDIX. 

in the "window, at the nether end of the hall, played. When she wag 
served of two dishes, then the Archbishoppe's service was set downe, 
whose server came equal with the third dish of the Queene's service 
on his left hand. After that the Queene and the Archbishoppe were 
served, the Barons of the Ports began at the table at the right hand 
next the wall. Then at the table sate the Master and Clerks of Chaun- 
cerie, and beneath them other doctors and gentlemen. The table next 
the wall on the left hand by the cupboard, was begun by the Maior and 
Aldermen, the Chamberlaine and Councell of the City of London ; and 
beneath them sate substantial! merchants, and so downwarde other 
worshipfull persons. At the table on the right hand, in the midst of 
the hall, sate the Lord Chancellor, and other temporal Lordes, on the 
right hand of the table, in their sircotes ; and on. the left side of the 
same table sate Bishops and Abbots, in their parliament robes : beneath 
them sate Judges, Serjeants, and the King's Councell ; beneath them 
the Knights of the Bathe. At the table on the left hand, in the middle 
part, sate Duchesses, Marquesses, Countesses, Baronesses, in their 
robes, and other ladies in circotes, and gentlewomen in gownes ; all 
which gentlewomen and ladies sate on the left side of the table along, 
and none on the right side ; and when all were thus sett, they were in- 
continent served so quickly, that it was marvellous ; for the servitors 
gave so good attendance, that meat, nor drink, nor any thing else 
needed to be called for, which in so great a multitude was marvell. 
As touching the fare, there could be devised no more costly dishes nor 
Bubtilties. The Maior of London, was served with four-and-twenty 
dishes at two courses, and so were his brethren, and such as sate at 
his table. 

The Queen had at her second course four-and-twenty dishes, and 
thirtie at the third course ; and betweene the last courses, the kings 
of armes, crowned, and other officers of armes, cried largesse in three 
parts of the hall, and after stood in their place, which was in the 
bekens of the Kinge's Bench ; and on the right hand out of the Cloyster 
of St. Stephen's Chappel was made a little closet, in which the Kinge, 
with divers ambassadors, stoode to beholde the service. The Duke of 
SuflFolke and the Lord William, rode oftentimes about the hall, cheer- 
ing the Lordes, Ladies, and Maior, and his brethren. After they in 
the nail had dined, they had wafers and ipocrase, and then they washed, 
and were commanded to stand still in their places before the tables, or 
on the formes, till the Queene had washed. When shee had taken 
wafers and ipocrase, the table was taken up, and the Earle of Rutland 
brought up the surnape, and laid it on the boord's end, which imme- 



APPENDIX. 339 

cliatel}^ Wcas drawn and cast by Maister Read, Marshall of the Ilall, 
and the Queene washed, and after the Archbishop ; and after the sur- 
nape was withdrawn, then shee rose, and stood in the middest of the 
hall place, to whom the Earle of Sussex in goodly spice plate, brought 
a void of spices and confections. After him the Maior of London 
brought a standing cup of golde, set in a cup of assay of golde ; after 
that shee had drunke, she gave the Maior the cup, with the cup of 
assay, because there was no cover, according to the claim of the city, 
thanking him and all his brethren of their paine. Then slice, under 
her canopie, departed to her chamber, and at the entry of her cham- 
ber, she gave the canopie with bells and all, to the Barons of the ports, 
according to their claime, with great thankes ; then the Maior of 
London, bearing his cup in his hand, with his brethren, went through 
the hall to their barge, and so did all other noblemen, and gentlemen, 
for it was sixe of the clocke. 

In Leland's Collectanea is preserved a circumstantial account of the 
coronation of Elizabeth, Mother of Henry the Eighth, which, though 
closely corresponding with that of Anne Boleyn, is marked by some 
superstitious formalities, evidently adapted to the age of Henry the 
Seventh. 

In the procession to Westminster, she was arrayed in a kirtle of 
white cloth of gold of damask ; a mantle of the same cloth, furred 
with ermine, and laced on her breast ; her fair yellow hair flowed down 
her back, with a caul of pipes over it ; she had a circlet of gold richly 
garnished with precious stones on her head ; her train was borne by 
the Lady Cecil, her sister. She proceeded, in royal state, to her litter, 
the timber work of which was covered with cloth of gold of damask, 
and large pillows of down, covered with like cloth of gold, laid about 
her royal person to sustain the same. In this manner she was con- 
veyed through the streets, which were decorated with tapestry. On 
either side were ranged the diJBTerent crafts of London, in their liveries : 
also, there was a marvellous sight of people. Nor were pageants want- 
ing ; and little children, dressed as angels, or virgins, saluted the 
Queen with songs as she passed. Immediately before the litter rode 
the Duke of Bedford, and the Earl of Oxinford, with three noblemen. 
The Lord Mayor, and a train of knights, followed. The marshal's offi- 
cers were ready to interpose with their tipstaves, to keep order among 
the people. Over the Queen's head a canopy of gold was borne by 
four knights, who were alternately relieved, twelve being appointed to 
this honourable office. Behind the litter was a lady's palfrey, led by 



340 APPENDIX. 

the Queen's master of the liorse, and after Mm followed several hench- 
men. After these came the Princess Cecil, and four ladies, in chairs, 
followed by several baronesses, on horseback. A long train of gentle- 
women closed the procession. On the following day, Elizabeth, arrayed 
in purple velvet, was conducted in solemn state from Westminster Hall 
to the Abbey, her sister, the Lady Cecil, again bearing her train : Es- 
quires and knights came first ; next the new knights of the bath ; after 
them barons. The heralds on one side ; and, to preserve order, the 
Serjeants at arms on the other; then followed abbots, bishops, the 
Archbishop of York ; the King's garter at arms ; the Lord Mayor ; 
next came the Earl of Arundel, bearing the ivory rod ; the Duke of 
Suffolk, with the sceptre ; the Earl of Oxinford, with his chamberlain's 
staff ; the Duke of Bedford bore the crown of gold. The Queen and 
her ladies followed. '■'■But the morepitie ther was so hoge a people inordy- 
nately presing to cut the ray cloth, that the Queen's grace gede upon ; so 
that, in the presence, certeyne persons were slayne, and the order of 
the ladies following the Queene was broken." 

The actual ceremony of the coronation appears to have been ex- 
tremely tedious. The Queen remained prostrate before the altar whilst 
the Archbishop pronounced over her the orison, " Deus qui solus 
habes;" that done, she arose, and knelt down again; when, the coif 
being removed from her head, and the handkerchief from her neck, 
the Archbishop anointed her head and breast ; he next blest her ring, 
and sprinkled on it holy water; then, having blest the crown, he set 
it on her head, on which was put a coif for the preservation of the 
holy unction, afterwards to be delivered to the Archbishop ; then he 
put into the Queen's right hand a sceptre, and a rod in her left hand, 
saying this orison, " Omnipotens Domine." The Queen was led thrice 
from the altar to her royal seat ; when the Agnus Dei being sung, she 
again descended and came to the altar, where she received the sacra- 
ment, after which the mass was concluded. The Queen was then con- 
ducted in solemn state to the shrine of St. Edward, on whose altar her 
crown was deposited, by the Archbishop, and thus ended the ceremony ; 
of which the King and his mother had a full view from a platform on 
the opposite side, prepared for their reception. During dinner, the 
Duke of Bedford, the Earl of Derby, and the Earl of Nottingham, rode 
up and down the hall, each mounted on a courser, superbly trapped 
and decorated. On the Queen's entrance, Catherine Gray and Mistress 
Ditton took their station at her feet, whilst the Countess of Oxinforde 
and the Countess of Rivers knelt, one on each side of her chair, and 
at certain times held a kerchief before her grace. At the end of the 



APPENDIX. 341 

hall, on high, before the •windo-w, ther was made a stage for the trum- 
pets and minstrels, who, when the first course was set forward, began 
to blow. The Lord Fitzwater as server, in his surcot, with taborde 
sleeves, a hood about his necke, and his towel above all, served the 
messes as ensueth, all borne by knights. 

Furst, a Warner before the Course. 

Sheldes of brawn in armor. 

Frumenty with venison. 

Bruet riche. 

Hart powdered graunt cliars. 

Fesante intramde royalc. 

Swan with chawdron. 

Capons of high goe. 

Lamperey in galantine. 

Crane with cretney. 

Pik in latymer sauce. 

Heronusar with his soque. 
Carpe in foile. 
Kid reversed. 
Perche in jeloy depte. 
Conies of high Greece. 
Moten roiali ricliely garnished. 
Valance baked. 
Custarde royale. 
Tarte Poleyn. 
Leyse damaske. 
Fruit synoper. 
Fruit formage, 

A soteltie with writing of balads. wliich as yet I have not. 

The Second Course. 
A Warner before the course, 
loly Ipocras. 
Mamane with lozenges of gold. Peacocks. Bitterns. Pheasants. Cocks. Par- 
tridges. Sturgeon. Plovers. Rabett. Sowker. Red Shanks. Snipes. Quails. 
Larks ingrailed. Gwerde eudence. Venison in paste royal. (Quince backed. 
Marchepanes royal, a cold baked meat flourished. Lithe Ciprus. Castles of jelly 
in Temple wise made. A soteltie. 

After the dinner, largess was thrice proclaimed by Garter King of 
Arms, de la trh haull, tr^s puissant, tris excellent princesse, la iris Chri- 
ticnne reyne de France, de JEngleterre, et dame d'lrlonde. And when the 
Queen was up and had washed, and grace said, she came into the voyde. 
Then blew the trumpets, and the Mayor of London, Sir "William Ilorne, 
served the Queene of Ipocras, and after of the spices ; and tooke his 
cup of gold covered for his fee; and then the Queene departed with 
God's blessing, and to the rejoiceing of mony a true Englishman's heart. 
29* 



342 APPENDIX. 

No. V. 
Anne Boleyn^s Dower. 

By a curious folio preserved in tlie British Museum, it appears tliat 
Henry the Eighth made, first to Anne Boleyn, in the twenty-fourth year 
of his reign, the grant of certain manors in Wales and Somerset, Hert- 
ford and Essex, for the maintenance of her dignity, as Marchioness of 
Pembroke. Secondly, in the same year, a grant of the manor, palace, 
and park of Hanworth. Thirdly, in the twenty-fifth of*his reign, a 
grant of deed of dower and jointure as Queen of England. Fourthly, 
a grant of certain lands under the seal of the Duchy of Lancaster. 
To this is annexed a grant of certain royal privileges and immunities; 
also an abstract of the act of Parliament, confirming the said grants, 
dated Westminster 3d of April, 25th of the reign of Henry the Eighth.^ 

In the Statutes of the realm, chapter 25, Henry VIII,, will be found 
an elaborate detail of all the manors, parks, castles, &c., included in 
the marriage-jointure of Anne Boleyn, who is styled Queen of England 
and France, and Lady of Ireland. Her revenue cannot be ascertained 
from this document, but it appears to have been fully equal to what 
was enjoyed by Catherine of Arragon. 



No. VI. 
Anne Boleyn being on the scafi"old, would not consent to have her 
eyes covered with a bandage, saying that she had no fear of death. 
All that the divine who assisted at her execution could obtain from her, 
was, that she would shut her eyes ; but, as she was opening them at 
every moment, the executioner could not bear their tender and mild 
glances : fearful of missing his aim, he was obliged to invent an ex- 
pedient to behead the Queen. He drew off his shoes, and approached 
her silently; while he was at her left hand, another person advanced 
at her right, who made a great noise in walking, so that this circum- 
stance drawing the attention of Anne, she turned her face from the 
executioner, who was enabled, by this artifice, to strike the fatal blow, 
without being disarmed by that spirit of affecting resignation which 
shone in the eyes of the lovely Anne Boleyn. 

The common executioner, 
Whose heart th' accustomed sight of death makes Jiard, 
Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck 
But first begs pardon."— Shakspeare. 

B' Israeli's Curiosities of Literature, vol. ii. p. 297. 

* See-^N^^SOa-af the Harleian Miscellany. (2<{_._a| Ujife, V ^t % 

THE END. 



NB'W BOOKS 

RECENTLY PUBLISHED BY 

A. HART, late CAREY & HART, 

No. 126 Chestnut Street, Philadelpliia, 



niSTORICAL KM SECRET MEMOIRS! PROSE WRITERS OF GERMANY. 



OF TUU 

EMPRESS JOSEPHINE, 

(Marie Hose Tascher de lu Pagerie,) 
FIRST WIFE OF NAPOLEON EOXAPARTE. 

BY MLLE. M. A. LE NORM AND. 

Translated from the French by Jacob M. 

Howard, Esq 

In 2 vols., 700 pages, muslin extra gilt. 

"It possesses great intrinsic interest. It 
is a chequered exhibition of the undress life 
of Napoleon. All the glitter antl pomp and 
dust of glory which bewilder the mind is 
laid; and we behold not the hero, the em- 

(>eror, the guide and moulder of destiny, 
mt a poor sickly child and creature of cir- 
cumstance—affrighted by shadows and tor- 
tured by straws." — Philada. City Item. 

" This is one of the most interesting works 
of the day, containing a muhiplieiiy of in- 
cidents in the life of Josephine and her re- 
nowned husband, which have never before 
been in print." — JV. O. T'hnes, 

"This is a work of high and commanding 
interest, and derives great aililiiional value 
from the fact asserted by the authoress, that 
the greater portion of it was written by the 
empress herself. It has a vast amount of 
information on the subject of Napoleon's 
career, with copies of original documenls 
not to be found elsewhere, and wiih copious 
notes at the end of the work.^' — N. O Com. 
Bulletin 

'Alfords the reader a clearer insight into 
tlie private character of Napoleon than he 
can obtain through any oilier source." — 
JJallimore American. 

"They are agreeably and well written; 
and it would be strange if it were not so, 
enjoying as Josephine did, familiar ('(jIIo- 
quiai intercourse with ihe most distinguish- 
ed men and minds of llie age. The work 
does not, apparently, t^ulfer by iranslaiioii." 
— Baltimore Patriot. 

" It IS the history— in part the secret his- 
tory, written by her own hand with rare 
elegance and force, and at times with sur- 
passing pathos— of the remarkable woman 
who. by the greainessof her spirilwaa wor- 
thy to be Ihe wil'e ot the soaring .NanoUon. 
It combines all the value of authentic his- 
tory with the al)sorbing interest of an auto- 
biography or exciting romance." — Item, 



By FREDERICK H. HEDGE. 

ILLUSTRATliD WITH EIGHT PORTRAITS ANl) AN 

ENGRAVED TITLE-PAGE, FROM A DESIGN 

BY LEUTZE. 

Complete in One Volume Octavo 

Contents* 

I/Uther, Bochme, Saiicta Clara, Moser, 
Kant, licssing, Mendelssohn, Hamann,Wie- 
land, Musiius, Claudius, Lavater, Jacobi, 
Menler, Gnelhe, Schiller, Fichte, Richier, 
A W. Schlegel, ^clileiermacher, Hegel, 
/schokke, F. fSehlegel, llardenberg, Tieck, 
Schellmg, Holfmann, Chamisso. 

''The autlior of this work — for it is well 
entitled to the name of an original produc- 
tion, though mainly consisting of transla- 
tions—Frederick li. Hedge ol IJangor, is 
qualified, as few men are in this country, 
or wherever the English language is writ- 
ten, for the successful accomplishment of 
Ihe great literary enterprise to which he has 
devoted his leisure for several years. 

"Mr. Hedge has displayed great wisdom 
in the selection of the pieces to be trans« 
lated; he has given the best specimens of 
the best authors, so far as was possible in 
his limited space. 

" We ve;>ture to say that there cannot be 
crowded into the same compass u more 
faithful represi Illation of the (iermaa mind, 
or a richer exhilulioii of the profound 
thought, subtle speculaiion. massive learn- 
ing aiul genial temper, thai characterize the 
mii'st fiiiineiit literary nun of that nation." 
— Harbinger. 

"What excellent matter we here have. 
The elioice.-.t gems of »xiibeiant fancy, the 
most |ioli.-;hi'd prodiu'i.oiis of scholarship, 
the richest (low of tin' hi-art. the deepest 
lessons of vvi.«dom. all translated .xo well by 
Mr Hedge and his inends. that they seem 
to have been first written by masters of the 
Ihiglish tongue."— r/i«; City Item. 

'• We have read the liook with rare plea- 
sure, and have derived not li-ss informuiion 
than enjoy mi- lit.'" — Knirktrbocker. 

" The seleetion."! are jiidieious and tasteful, 
ihe biographies well written and compre 
hensive." — Inqtiinr. 

1 



NEW BOOKS PUBLISHED BY A. HAET. 



THE MARSHALS OF TEE EMPIRE. 

Complete in 2 vols. 12mo., 

With 16 Steei Portraits in Military Costume. 

Coiiteiitse 

Napoleon, Jourdan. Serrurier, Lannes, 
Bnme, Perignon, Oudinot, Soult, Davoust, 
Massena, Murat, Mortier, Nay, Poniatow- 
ski, Grouchy, Bessieres. Berlhier, Souchet, 
St. Cyr, Victor, Moncey, Marmont, Mac- 
donald, Bernadolte, Augereau, Lefebvre, 
Kellermann. 

The biographies are twenty-seven in 
number — Napoleon and his twenty-six 
marshals, being all those created by him — 
and therefore these pages have a complete- 
ness about them which no other work of a 
similar design possesses 

The style is clear and comprehensive, 
and the book may be relied upon for histo- 
rical accuracy, as the materials have been 
drawn from sources the most authentic. 
The Conversations of Napoleon, with Mon- 
tholon, Gourgaud, Las Cases and Dr. O'- 
Meara have all been consulted as the true 
basis upon which the lives of Napoleon 
and his commanders under him should be 
founded. 

"The article on Napoleon, which occu- 
pies the greater part of the first volume, is 
written in a clear and forcible style and 
displays marked ability in the author. Par- 
ticular attention has been paid to the early 
portion of Napoleon's life, which other wri- 
ters have hurriedly dispatched as though 
they were impatient to arrive at the opening 
glories of his great career." — N. Y. Mirror. 

"The lives of the Marshals and their 
Chief, the military paladins of the gorgeous 
modern romance of the ' Empire,' are given 
with historic accuracy and without exag- 
geration of fact, style or language."— £aZ- 
tiniore Patriot. 

" We have long been convinced that the 
character of Napoleon would never receive 
'even handed justice' until some impartial 
and intelligent American should undertake 
the task of weighing his merits and deme- 
rits. In the present volume this has been 
done with great judgment. We do not 
know the author of the paper on Napoleon, 
but whoever he may be. allow us to say to 
him that he has executed his duty better than 
any predecessor.''''— Evening Bulletin. 

'• The style of this work is worthy of com- 
mendation — plain, pleasing and narrative, 
the proper style of history and biography 
in which the reader does not seek fancy 
sketches, and dashing vivid pictures, but 
what the work professes 1o contain, biogra- 
phies. We commend this as a valuable 
library book worthy of preservation as a 
work of reference, after having been read." 
— Bait American. 

"This is the clearest, most concise, and 

most interesting life of Napoleon and his 

marshals which has yet been given to the 

public. Tne arrangement is judicious and 

2 



the charm of the narrative continues un» 
broken to the end." — City Item 

"The publishers have spared no pains or 
expense in its production, and the best talent 
in ilie country has been engaged on its va- 
rious histories. The style is plain and gra- 
phic, and the reader feels that he is perusing 
true history rather than the ramblings of a 
romantic mind."— iacfi/'s Book. 

"The result of these joint labors is a series 
of narratives, in which the events succeed 
each other so rapidly, and are of so marvel- 
ous a cast, as to require only the method in 
arrangement and the good taste in descrip- 
tion which they have received from the 
hands of their authors. The inflated and 
the Ossianic have been happily avoided." — 
Colonization Pier aid. 

" Their historical accuracy is unimpeach- 
able, and many of them (the biograjiliies) 
are stamped with originality of thought and 
opinion. The engravings are numerous and 
very tine. The book is well printed on fine 
white paper, and substantially bound. It 
deserves 'a place in all family and school 
libraries." — Bulletin. 

"It abounds in graphic narratives of bat- 
tles, anecdotes of the world-famed actors, 
and valuable historical information." — Rich' 
mond Inquirer. 

" We receive, therefore, with real plea- 
sure, this new^ publication, having assurance 
that great pains have been taken in the pre- 
paration of each individual biography, and 
especially in collating the various authori- 
ties upon the early history of the Emperor. 
There appears to be nowhere any attempt 
to blind the reader by dazzling epithets, and 
the accuracy of construction throughout is 
highly creditable to the editor." — Commer- 
cial Advertiser N. Y. 

" The style is simplicity itself, wholly free 
from the amusing pomposity and absurd in- 
flation that distinguish some of the works 
which have gone before it." 



BRYANT'S POEMS. 

ILIUSTRATEB BY TWENTY SUPERB ENGRAVINGS, 

From Designs by E. LEUTZB, 

Expressly for this Volume, 

ENGRAVED BY AMERICAN ARTISTS, 

And printed on fine Vellum paper. 
COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME OCTAVO. 

Sixtli Edition. (Just ready.) 

I'rice $5.00 ioicnd in scarlet, gilt edges; or 

beautifully bound by S. Moore in calf 

or Turkey morocco, $7.00. 

"This is really a splendid book, and one of 
the most magnificent of Carey & Hart's collec- 
tion of "The Illustrated Poets.'"— fT". ^S*. Gaz. 

" The ' getting up' of this edition is credit* 
able in the highest degree to the publishers 
and the fine arts of the country. The paper 
binding, and the engravings are all of the 
very best kind." — Inquirer and Courier, 



NEW BOOKS PUBLISHED BY A. HART. 
PETER SCHLEMIHL. 

PETER SCIlLEMmL IN AMEllICA. 

Complete in One Volume, \2mo. 



" The object of this work is to ' calcli the > 
manners living as they rise' in connection^ 
with the anlafronisms of the present day — i 
^novelties tvhick disturb the pence'' — as Swe- i 
denborgianisni, Transcendenialisin, Fou-) 
rierism, and other isjns. The autlior has ^ 
made these pages the vehicle of valuable j 
information oa all the topics of which he ^ 
has treated." i 

" Peter, as our readers may recollect, sold ? 
his shadow to a Gentleman in Black, and • 
upon this fable the American adventures ;! 
are founded. The author, whoever he may^ 
be, has read much, and betn at least 'a;! 
looker on in Venice,' if not a participator < 
of the follies of fashionable life. < 

"The theological and political criticism < 
is inwoven vvitli a tale of fashionable life,.^ 
and the reader becomes not a little interest- ^ 
ed in the heroine, Mrs. Smith, who certainly > 
must have been a remarkable woman. It^ 
is neatly published, and will be extensively:^ 
read." — Bulletin. i 

"We shall be greatly mistaken if thiss 
book does not kick up a whole cloud of;! 
dust."- The City Item. < 

"The work is cliaracteri/ed by much^ 
learning and sincere feeling." — N.Y.Jilirror.j 

"One of the most entertaining works we> 
have read for many a day, as well as one; 
of the best written. Who the author is we ] 
know not; but we do know that the book^ 
will meet with a rapid sale wherever ans 
inkling of its character leaks out. For^ 
watering places, or anywhere, during the ^ 
hot weather, it is worth its weight in — gold <; 
we almost said. It is I'ull of everything of ^ 
the best, and you can scarcely open it at^ 
random without striking upon some sketch ^ 
or dialogue to enchain the attention." — Ger- 'i 
tnantowti Telegraph. ^ 

"His stock of knowledge is large ; and as ] 
his conscience is rectified by Christian >' 
principle, and his heart beats in unison 
with the right and the true, he uses his trea- 
sures of information only for good purposes. 

"The book belong? to that class of novels 
which make an interesting story the me- 
dium for the communication of imporlant 
•juth. In many respects it is a peculiar 
work, dilTenng from all others in both de- 
sign and execution, and leaving the impres- 
sion that it is the product of a mind of no 
ordinary power. # * # * 

"Those who love to think nud/eel. as the 
result of truthful thought, will read the book 
with interest and profii."^/vf/fec/ort^ Watch- 
man. 

"A rare book. Who in the world wrote 
it? Mere are nearly five hundred pages 
with gems on every one of them. The 
satire is equal to that of Don (Quixote or 
Asinodeus The hits at society in tliis 
country are admirable and well pointed. 
The humbugs of the day are skillfully 



shovvn up, and the morals of the book ara 
unexcei)tional)le. The author cannot long 
escape detection, in spite of his shadowry 
concealment, and if a new practitioner ha 
will jump to the head of his profession at 
once." — Godey''s Lady''s Book. 

" We are prepared to say, that Peter 
Schlemihl is an exceedingly clear and 
well-written work — that the author has 
displayed a considerable amount of book 
lore in its composition — that the story is in- 
teresting and instructive — that we have 
been entertained and edified by its perusal, 
and that it possesses merits of more than 
ordinary character. We cordially recom- 
mend it to the reading community, since we 
are sure that they will be benefitted as well 
as entertained by the revelations contained 
in the pages of Peter. — T'he National Era. 

"A strangely conceived and ably executed 
work."— iV. O Com. Times. 

"The work forms a consecutive tale, all 
along which runs a vein of severe satire, 
and which at every step is illustrated by a 
vast deal of valuable information, and the 
inculcation of sound principles of morality 
and religion. It is a work which is adapted 
to do good, suited to all intelligent general 
readers, and a pleasant companion for the 
scholar's leisure hours." — iV. Y. Recorder. 

"This is a very remarkable production, 
and unless we are greatly deceived, it is 
from a new hand at the literary forge. We 
have read every page of this thick volume, 
and have been strongly reminded of South- 
ey's great book. The Doctor. The author of 
this work must be a man of close observa- 
tion, much research, and if we are accurate 
in our estimate, he is a layman. * * * * 
This same book will make a sensation in 
many quarters, and will unquestionably 
create a name and reputation for its author, 
who forthwith takes his place among the 
best and keenest writers of our country. * * 
We commend it to the gravest and gayest of 
our readers, and assure them that our own 
copy will not go off our table until another 
winter has passed aw^ay."— iV. Y. Alliance 
and Visitor. 

"The volume cannot fail to be read exten- 
sively and do good The popular ' isms'' of 
the day, their folly and injurious tendency, 
are descanted upon with mingled gravity 
and humor, and considerable talent and 
truthful feiding are shown in the discus- 
sion. Whether (he book have an immediate 
run or not, the soundness of its views, deli- 
vered with some quaintness of siyle, will 
insure it permanent popularity." — N. York 
Commercial Advertiser. 

"Light, sportive, graceful raillery, ex- 
pressed with terse and delicate ease. * * * 

" It is .1 novel of fun, with grave notes by 
wav of ballast." — Christian Examiner. 

3 



PUBLISHED BY A. HART. 

Now ready, in 2 vols, post 8vo., price $2 00, with 16 Portraits, 

WASHIMGTOKT AMD THE GENERALS 0^ 
THE EEVOLUTIOri. 

BY VARIOUS EMINENT AUTHORS. 

CONTAINING 

Biog'raphical Sketches of all the Jflajor and Srig-adier Generals 

who acted under commissions from Cong-ress during- 

the Revolutionary War, 



We hail these beautiful volumes with 
undisgaised delight. They supply, in a dig- 
nified and comprehensive form, valuable 
information, which w^ill be sought w^ith avi- 
dity, not only by the American public, but 
by the world at large. The want of a work 
of positive authority on this suljject has long 
been felt and deplored. The enterprise and 
good taste of Messrs. Carey and Hart have 
given us two handsome and reliable vo- 
lumes, betraying industry and talent, and 
replete with facts of the deepest interest. 
There is no idle romancing — no school-boy 
attempts at rhetorical display; on the con- 
trary, the work is written in a clear, un- 
affected, business-like, yet beautiful man- 
ner. The authors had the good sense to 
think that the stirring events of "the times 
that tried men's souls," needed no embellish- 
ment. It is a complete, impartial, and well 
^vritten history of the American Revolu- 
tion, and, at the same time, a faithful bio- 
graphy of the most distinguished actors in 
that great struggle, whose memories are 
enshrined in our hearts. The typographical 
execution of the work is excellent, and the 
sixteen portraits on steel are remarkably 
well done. The first volume is embel- 
lished with a life-like portrait of Washing- 
ton mounted on his charger, from Sully's 
picture, " Quelling the Whishy Riots.'" This 
is, we believe, the first engraving taken 
from it. There are biographies of eighty- 
eight Generals, beginning with "the Father 
of his country," and closing with General 
Maxwell. To accomplish this task, we 
are assured that "the accessible published 
and unpublished memoirs, correspondence, 
and other materials relating to the period, 
have been carefully examined and faith- 
fully reflected." AVe earnestly commend 
this -work. It will be found an unerring 
record of the most interesting portion of 
our history. — The City Item. 

This work differs from Mr. Headley's, 
having nearly the same title, in many im- 
portant particulars; and as a7i historical book 
is much superior. — N. Y. Co?n. Advertiser. 

Certainly the most comprehensive and 
individualized work that has ever been 
published on the subject — each member of 
the great dramatis personce of the Revolu- 
tionary tragedy, standing out in bold and 
"sculptured" relief, on liis own glorious 
d'^.'^ds — Saturday Courier. 

This -work is a very different affair from 
the flashy and superficial book of the Rev. 
J. T. Headley, entitled "Washington and 
his Generals." It appears without the 



name of any author, because it is the joint 
production of many of the most eminent 
writers in the country, resident in various 
states in the Union, and having, from the 
circumstance, access to original materials 
in private hands, and to public archives not 
accessible to any one individual without 
long journey and much consumption of 
time. The result, however, is a complete 
and authentic w^ork, embracing biographi- 
cal notices of every one of the Revolution- 
ary Generals. The amount of fresh and ori- 
ginal matter thus brought together in these 
moderate-sized volumes, is not less sur- 
prising than it is gratifying to the historical 
reader. This will become a standard book 
of reference, and will maintain its place in 
libraries long after the present generation 
shall have enjoyed the gratification of pe- 
rusing its interesting pages, exhibiting in a 
lively style the personal adventures and 
private characters of the sturdy defenders 
of American Independence. — Scott^s Weekly 
Newspaper. 

The author's name is not given, and from 
what we have read, we presume that va- 
rious pens have been employed in these in- 
teresting biographies. This is no disadvan- 
tage, but, on the contrary, a decided benefit, 
for it insures greater accuracy than could be 
looked for in such a series of biographies 
written by one person in a few months. 
The voluqies are published in a very hand- 
some style. The first sixty pages are oc- 
cupied with the biography of Washington, 
which is written with force and elegance, 
and illustrated by an original view of the 
character of that great man. * * * The 
number of the biographies in these volumes 
is much greater than that of Mr. Headley's 
work. There are eighty-eight distinct sub- 
jects. — N. Y. Mirror. 

We have read a number of the articles, 
find them to be written with ability, and to 
possess a deep interest. The author has 
manifested excellent judgment in avoiding 
all ambitious attempts at what is styled 
Jine writing ; but gives a connected recital 
of the important events in the lives of his 
heroes. The work will be highly interest- 
ing and valuable to all readers — particu- 
larly so to youth, who are always attracted 
by biographies. If a father wishes to pre- 
sent to his sons noble instances of uncor- 
rupted and incorruptible patriotism, let him 
place this work in their hands. It should 
have a place in every American library, 
and is among the most valuable books of the 
season. — Baltimore American. 



NEW BOOKS PUBLISHED BY A. HART. 



FEDERAL ADMINISTRATIONS. 

MEMOIRS 

OF THE 

ADMINISTRATIONS OF 
WASniNGTON AND JOHN ADAMS. 

EDITED FROM THE PAPERS OF 

OLIVER WOLCOTT, 

SECKETAKY OF Ti£E TREASURY. 

By GEORGE GIBBS. 

" Nullius addictus jurare in Ter1»a magistri." 

In 2'icoVols Octavo. lOOO Pages, Cloth Gilt. 

Price e?5. 

"Books of this character best illustrate 
ihe history of the country. The men who 
have acted imporlaut parts are made to 
speak for themselves, and appear without 
any aid from the partiality of friends, or any 
injury from the detraction of enemies." — 
Providence Journal. 

'•The materials of which these volumes 
are composed are of great value. They 
consist of corrt'spondeuce, now first given 
to the world, of Wasliingion, the elder 
Adams, Ames, John Marshall, Rut'us King, 
Timothy Pickering, Wolcott, &c. There 
are thirty-seven original letters from Alex- 
ander Hamilton, many of them of the highest 
interest; one in which the writer with keen 
sagacity and all the splendor of his elo- 
quence, gives a character of iVIr. Burr upon 
which his own tate was destined to put the 
seal of truth, is read now with singular 
emotions. Mr. Gibbs has peribrmed his 
task extremely well. His prelace is modest 
and dignified. The passages of narrative 
by which the letters are connected are ac- 
curate, judicious and agreeable; they illus- 
trate, and do not overlay the principal ma- 
terial of the work." — North American. 

" Here we meet, illustrated in something 
like forty important letters, the blazing intel- 
ligence, the practical sagacity, the heroic 
generosity, the various genius, which have 
made Hamilton the name of statesmanship 
and greatness, rather than the name of a 
man. ilere we have the piercing judgment 
of John Marshall, unsusceptible of error, 
whose capacity to see the truth was equalled 
only by his power of compelling others to 
receive it; in the light of whose logic opi- 
nions ajipeared to assume the nature of 
facts, and truth acquires the palpableness 
of a material reality; the blunlness. ibrce 
and probity of Pickering; the sterling ex- 
cellences of Wolcott himself, who had no 
artifices and no coucealuienls. because hs 
strength was too great to require them, and 
his purposes loo pure to admit them; and 
sounding as an understrain through the 
whole, the prophet tones of Ames." — U. S. 
Gazette. 

"An important and valuable addition to 
the historical lore of the country."— iV. Y. 
Even ins: Gazette. 

" We look upon these memoirs as an ex- 
ceedingly valuable contribution to our na- 
tional records." — N. Y Com. Advertiser. 



PETERS' DIGEST. 

A FULL AXD ARRANGED 

DIGEST OF THE DECISIONS 

hi Common Laiv, Equity, and Admiralty 

OF THE COURTS OF THE UNITED STATES, 

Fi'om the Organization of the Government in 
1789 to 1S47 : 

IN THE SUPREME, CIRCtnT, DISTRICT, ANT) 
ADMIRALTY COURTS; 

Reported in Dallas, Cranch, Wheaton, Peters, 
and Howard's Supreme Court Reports ; in 
Gallison, Mason, Paine, Peters, Washington, 
Wallace, Sumner. Story, Baldwin, Brocken- 
brougli, and McLean's Circuit Court Re- 
ports: and in Bees, Ware, Peters, and Gil- 
pin's District and Admiralty Reports. 

BY RICHARD PETERS. 

With an Appendix — containing the Rules 
and Orders of the Supreme Court of the Un'ted 
States in Proceedings in Equity, established 
by the Supreme Court. Complete in two 
large octavo volumes, law binding, raised 
bands, at a low price. 



THRILLING INCIDENTS 

OF THE 

WARS OF THE UMTED STATES. 

COMPRISING THE MOST 

STRIKING AND REMARKABLE EVENTS 

OF 

The Revolution, the French War, the 

Tripoli tan War, the Indian War, the 

Second War with Great Britain, 

and the Mexican War. 

WITH THREE HUNDRED ENGRAVINGS. 

BY THE AUTHOR OF 

"The Army and Navy of the United States." 

In One Volume Octavo, 600 Pages, xvith .300 
illustrations of Battle Scenes, Portraits, 



HI E 31 O I R S 

OF THE 

QUEENS OF FRANCE. 

By MRS. FORBES BUSH. 

FROM THE SECOND LONDON EDITION. 
In Two Vols. l'2mo., with Portraits. 

"iNlrs. Forbes Uusli is a graceful writer, 
and in the work before us has selectee) the 
prominent features m the lives of i he Queens 
with a <;;reat deal of judifinent and discrimi- 
nation. These memoirs will be Ibund not 
only peculiarly iiUerestini;, but also in- 
structive as throwing considerable liglil 
njjon the manners and cu.stoms of pasl 
ages."— Western Continent. 

5 



NEW BOOKS PUBLISHEI> BY A. HART. 



MORPIT'S APPLIED CHEMISTRY. 



A TREATISE UPON CHEMISTRY, 

IN ITS APPLICATION TO THE MANUFACTURE OF 

SOAPS AND CANDLES. 

BEING A THOROUaH EXPOSITION OF THE PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICE OF THE TRaDK 
IN ALL THEIR MINUTI^, BASED UPON THE MOST RECENT DISCOVERIES IN 

SCIEJNCE. 

BY CAMPBELL MOEFIT, 

PRACTICAL AND ANALYTICAL CHEMIST. 

"Witli 170 Engravings on "Wood. 

This work is based upon the most recent discoveries in Science and improvements 
IN Abt, and presents a thorough exposition of the principles and practice of the trade in 
all their minutiae. The experience and al)i]ily of the author have enabled him to produce 
A MORE COMPLETE AND COMPREHENSIVE BOOK upon the Subject than any extant. The whole 
arrangement is designed with a view to the scientific enlightenment, as well as the in- 
Btrucion of the manufacturer, and its contents are such as to render it not only A stand- 
ard GUIDE BOOK TO THE OPERATIVE, but also an authoritaiivc work of reference for the 
Chemist AND THE Student. 

An examination of the annexed table of contents will show the invaluable usefulness 
of the work, the practical features of which are illustrated by upwards of one hundred 

AND SIXTY ENGRAVINGS ON WOOD. 



The following synopsis embraces only the ?nai7i heads 
Chap. 1. Introductory Remarks. 

" 2. The Dignity of the Art a7id its Re 

lations to Science- i Chap. 17. 

" 3. Affinity and Chemical Equiva- 
lents : — Explanation of. 

" 4. Alkalies. — Lime, Foiassa, Soda, 
Ammonia. 

*' 5. Alkalime-try. 

" 6 J.«c?5.— Carbonic, Sulphuric, Hy- 
drochloric, Nitric, Boracic. 
Acidimetry. 

" 7. Origin and Composition of Fatty 
-Matters. 

" 8. Saponifiahle Fate.— Oils of Al- 
mond, Olive, Mustard, Beech, 
Poppy, Rapeseed, Grapeseed; 
Nut Oil, Linseed Oil, Castor 
Oil, Palm Oil, (processes for 
bleaching it;) Coco Butter, 
Nutmeg Butler, Galum Butter, 
Athamantine. 

" 9. Adulteration of Oils. 

" 10. Action of Acids upon Oils. 

" 11. Volatile Oils.— The Properties of, 
and their applicability to the 
Manufacture of Soaps. 

" 12. Volatile Oils:— Their Origin and 
Composition; Table of their 
Specific Gravities. 

" 13. Essential Oils: — The Adultera- 
tions of, and the modes of de- 
tecting them. 

" 14. Wax:— Its Properties and Com- 
position. I " 24. 

" 15. jRestns : — Their Properties and 
Composition ; Colophony and 
Gallipot. 

•* 16. Animal Fats and Oils :— Lard, [ " 25. 
Mutton Suet, Beef-tallow, Beef- 
marrow, Bone-fat, Soap-grease, 
Oil-lees, Kitchen-stuff, Human- ^ " 26. 
fatj Adipocire, Butter, Fish-oil, 



18. 



21. 
22. 
23. 



of each Chapter and Paragraph. 

Spermaceti, Delphinine, Neats 
feet Oil. 

The Constituents of Fats, their 
Properties and Composition: 
Stearine, Stearic Acid and 
Salts; Margarine. Maro'arie 
Acid and Salts; Olein, Oleic 
Acid and Salts; Celine, Celylic 
Acid ; Phocenine, Phocenic 
Acid and Salts ; Butyrine, Bu- 
tyric Acid and Salts; Caproic, 
Capric Acid; Hircine, Hircic 
Acid; Cholesterine. 

Basic Constituents of Fats: — 
Glycerin. Ethal. 

Theory of Saponification. 

Utensils: — Steam Series, Buga- 
diers or Ley Vats, Soap Frames, 
Caldrons, &c. 

The Systemized arrangement for 
a Soap Factory. 

ReTnarks, — Preliminary to the 
Process for Making Soap. 

Hard Soaps : — " Cutting Pro- 
cess;" Comparative Value of 
Oils and Fats as Soap ingredi- 
ent, with Tables ; White, Mot- 
tled, Marseilles, Yellow, Yan- 
kee Soaps; English Yellow and 
White Soap, Coco Soap, Palm 
Soap, Butter Soap, English 
Windsor Soap, French Wind- 
sor Soap. Analyses of Soaps. 

Process for Making Soap : — Pre- 
paration of the Leys, Empa- 
lage, Relargage, Coction, Mot- 
tling, Cooling. 

Extemporaneous Soaps: — Lard, 
Medicinal, " Hawes," " Ma 
quer," and "Darcet's" Soaps 

Silicated Soaps: — Flint, Sand, 
" Dunn's," " Davis's" Soaps. 



NEW BOOKS rUBLISIIED BY A. HART, 



Chap. 27. Patent Soaps. — Dextrine, Salina- 
ted Soaps, Soap from Hardened 
Fat. 

" 28. AndersotCs Improvements. 

" 29. Soft Soaps: — Process for Making, 
Crown Soaps, '"Savon Vert." 

" 30. The Conversion of Soft Soaps into 
Hard Soaps. 

" 31. Frauds in Soap Making and 
Means for their Detection. 

•' 32. Earthy Soaps. Marine Soap. Me- 
tallic Soaps. Ammoniacal Soap. 

" 33. Soap fro7n Volatile 0/7s;— Siar- 
ky's Soap, Aciion of Alkalies 
upon Essential Oils. 

" 34. ^'Savons Acides,^' or Olco-acidu- 
lated Soap. 

" 35. Toilet Soaps: — Purification of 
Soaps, Admixed Soap, Cinna- 
mon, Rose, Orange - flower, 
Bouquet, Benzoin, Cologne, 
Vanilla, Musk, Naples, Kasan 
Soaps, Flotant Soaps, Trans- 
parent Soaps Soft Soaps, Sha- 
ving Cream ; Remarks. 

" 36. Areometers and Thermometers: — 
their use and value. 

" 37. Weights and Measicres. 

" 38. Candles. 

" 39. Illumination 

" 40. Philosojjhy of Flame. 

" 41. Raw Material for Candles: — 



Modes of Rendering Fats, 
•' Wilson's Steam Tanks. 
CnAr. 42. Wicks: — Their use and action. 
Cutting Machines. 

" 43. Of the Manufacture of Candles. 

" 41. l>i/)77f(/ Cart^y/fes; — Improved Ma- 
chinery for facilitating their 
Manufacture. 

" 45. Material of Uaiidles : — Process 
for Improving its Quality. 

" 46. Moulded Candles: — impTovei 
Machinery for facilitating their 
Manutacture.— " Vaxeme," or 
Summer Candles. 

" 47. Stearic Acid Candles:— Adamant- 
ine and Star Candles. 

" ii. Stearin Catidles : — BiSLCOnnoVa 
and Morfii's Process. 

" 49. Sper7n Candles. 

" 50. Falmine., Palm Wax, Coco Can- 
dles. 

" 51. Wa.r, Candles :— Mode of Bleach- 
ing the Wax, with drawings of 
the apparatus requisite there- 
for; Bougies, Cierges, Flam- 
beaux. 

" 52. Patent Canrfte : — " Azotized," 
Movable Wick and Goddard's 
Candles ; Candles on Continu- 
ous Wick ; Water and Hour 
Bougies. Perfumed Candles. 
" 53. Concluding Retnarks. Vocabu- 



lary. 

Terms.— The book is handsomely printed, with large type, and on good thick paper, 
in an octavo volume of upwards of five hundred pages, the price of which is fl^S per 
copy, neatly bound in cloth gilt, or it will be forwa-ded by mail free of postage in flexible 
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PERFUMERY; 

ITS MANUFACTURE AND USE: 

WITH INSTRUCTIONS IN EVERY BRANCH OF THE ART, AND 
RECIPES FOR ALL THE FASHIONABLE PREPARATIONS. 



THE WHOLE FORMING A VALUABLE AID TO THE 

Perfamer, Druggist and Soap Manufacturer. 

ILLUSTRATED WITH NUMEROUS WOOD-CUTS 

From tlie Frencli of Celuart and otlier late Autliorities. 

V\'-ITH ADDITIONS AND IMPROVEMENTS 

BY CAMPBELL MORFIT, 

Practical and Analytical Chemist. 

"This is a translation from the French of j "A very useful work, and one which, we 
Celnart, and other late authorities, with Uhink, must become immensely popular. I\ 
additions and irnprovemciils by Campbell \ exposes the whole art and mystery of the 
Morfit. To us it is a volume of mysteries: i inaMuiacture of cosmetics, liair-dyes, po- 
lo lady readers it will doiibiless be at once ( mades, oils, depilatories, dentifrices, soajis, 
\ntelligii)le and interesting, as it prolesscs > cachous, &c., and enables ei-er;/ ;«a/i or tt'o- 
lo give insiruciions it every branch of ilie > man to be his or her own leautifier, without 
art, and recipes for all tashiouahle prepara-| recourse to the genius or tiisie of the per- 
tions. Indeed we should scarcely imaijiue } funur. It is, indeeil, a curious book, an<l 
that a single cosmetic has been omitted, the i we have skipped over its pajjes with a 
list is so extensive."— iV. Y.Com. Advertiser. ' great deal of saiisfacUon. — ,S2)irit tf Times. 



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phy of the most distinguished actors in that 
great struggle, whose memories are en- 
shrined in our hearts. The typographical 
execution of the work is excellent, and six- 
teen portraits on steel are remarkably well 
done." — City Itan. 

JOHNSON'S FARMERS' CYCLO- 
PEDIA and Dictionary of Rural Affairs, 
with Engravings, from the last London edi 
tion, with numerous additions relative to this 
country, by Gouverneur Emerson, royal 
Svo. 1156 pp., 17 plates, full bound, raised 
bands, reduced to $4 00. 

MISS LESLIE'S 

LADY'S RECEIPT BOOK. 

A useful companion for large or small fa 
milies — being a sequel to her work on Cook- 
ery — comprising new and improved direc- 
tions for preparing Soups. Fish. IMeats, Ve- 
getables, Poultry, Game, Pies, Pnddings, 
Cakes, Confectionery, Jellies, Breakfast 
and Tea Cakes, Embroidery, Crotchet 
work. Braiding, Needle work. Cleaning 
Furs, Merinos, &c.. Washing I^aces, De- 
stroying Ants, Bugs and Mice, Cleaning 
Silver, Preparing Colors, making Artificial 
Flowers, &c. &.c. Complete in one volume, 
400 pages, price, bound, SI 00. 

Mtss Leslie's Complete Cookery, bd., SI 00 
Miss Leslie's Mouse Book, hound, . 1 00 
.Miss Leslie's Frexc!i Cookery, . 2-5 
Miss Leslie's Indian Mbal Book, • 2S 

11 



A. IIAET'S STANDARD WORKS. 

THE MODERN BRITISH ESSAYISTS 

At less tiiaii Half Price. 

The great success lliat has aitonded the publication of 
THE MODERN ESSAYISTS, 
Comprising the Critical and Miscellant-ous Writings of the Most Distinguished Author* 
of Modern Times, has induced the publishers to issue a New. Revised and very Cheap 
Edition, with Finely Engraved Portraits of the Authors; and while they have addet/ to 
ihe series the writings of several distinguished authors, they have reduced the price more 
;lian 

ONE I-IAJLF. 
The writings of each author will generally be comprised in a single octavo volume, 
well printed from new type, on fine white paper manufactured expressly for this edition. 
The series will contain all the most able papers that have tVER appeared in 

THE EDINBURGH REVIEW, 

tUf^z SLontron (?Biiiarterli) 2^Ebieto, an"D SSlaci^.toooU^s l^a^anne, 

and may indeed be called the cream of those publications. 

It is only necessary to mention the names of the authors whose writings w^ill appear. T. 
Babington Macaulay, Archibald Alison, Rev. Sydney Smith, Professor Wilson 
James Stephen, Rosert Southey, Sir Walter Scott. Lord Jeffrey, Sir James Mack- 
INTOSH, T. Noon Talfoctrd, J. G. Lockhart. Reg vald Heber. 

The popularity of the authors and the extreme moderaiiCii of the price, recommend 

THE IS/IODERN ESSAYISTS, 

To HEADS OF Families for their Children, as perfect models of style. 

To Managers of Book Societies, Book Clubs. &c. 

To School Inspectors, Schoolmasters and Tutors, as suitable gifts and prizes, or 
adapted for School Libraries. 

Travellers on a Journey will find in these portable and cheap volumes something to 
read on the road, adapted to fill a corner in a portmanteau or carpet-bag 

To Passengers on board a Ship, here are ample materials in a narrow compass for 
whiling away the monotonous hours of a sea voyage. 

To Officers in the Army and Navy, and to all Economists in space or pocket, who, 
having limited chambers, and small book-shelves, desire to lay up for themselves a concen- 
trated Library, at a moderate expenditure. 

To ALL WHO HAVE Friends IN DISTANT COUNTRIES, as an acceptable present to send 
out to them. 

The Modern Essayists will yield to the Settler in the Backwoods of America the most 
valuable and interesting writings of all the most djslmguished authors of our time at less 
than one quarter the price they could be obtained in any other form. 

The Student and Lover of Literature at Home, who has hitherto been compelled 
to wade through volumes of Reviews for a single article, may now become possessed of 
every article loorth reading for little more than the cost of the annual subscription. 

I. i Ranke's fiisiory of the Popes. Cowley and 

"B^f /5i ^ ;^ f T?* /J^l'' s Milton, Mitford's History of Greece, The 

lEf Ja&a,l!i5 J2a U J-iBfea. =1!. . > Athenian Orators, Comic Dramatists of the 

_ „ — „ , .,„„„^ < Restoration, Lord Holland, Warren Hast- 

CRITICAL AND MISCELLANEOUS ] in?^, Frederic the Great, Lays of Ancient 

lA/ r\ 1 -^ I M y-v 5^ r\r- ^ Rome, Madame D'Arblay, Addison, Ba- 

W K I M N G o O F I i-ere's Memoirs, Montgomery's Poems, Civil 

THOMAS BABINGTON MAGAULAY. < Disabilities of the Jews, Mill on Govern- 

In 0?ie Volume, with a finely engraved ment. Bentham's Defence of Mill, Utilita- 

iwrtrait. from an original picture \ nan Theory of Government, and Earl Chat- 

by Henry Inman. Cloth Gilt, Mi am second part. &c. 

g2 00. > '■ ^^ may now be asked by some sapient 

critics, Why make all this coil about a mere 
periodicf 1 essayist? Of what possible con- 



Couteiits. 



Milton, Machiavelli, Dryden, History, ^ cern is it to anybody, whether Mr. Thomas 
Hallam's Constitutional History, Southey's ? Babington Macaulay be, or be not, overrun 
Colloquies on Society, Moore's Life of By- > with faulis. since he is nothing more than 
ron, Southey's Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, 5 one of the three-day immortals who contri- 
Croker's Boswell's Life of Johnson, Lord S bute flashy and ' taking' articles to a Quar- 
Nugent's Memoirs of Hampden. Nare's Me- ^ terly Review ? What great work has he 
moirs of liord Burghley, Dumont's Recol- < written? Such questions as these might be 
lections of Mirabeau, Lord Mahon's War of < put by the same men who place the Specta- 
the Succession, Walpole's Letters to Sir H. < tor, Tattler and Rambler among the British 
Mann, Thackaray's History of Earl Chat- < classics, yet judge of the size of a cotempo- 
h am.. Lord Bacon, Mackintosh's History of ^ rary's mind by that of his book, and who 
the Revolution of England, Sir John Mai- ? can hardly reeognize amplitude of compre- 
colm's Life of Lord Clive, Life and Writings $ hension, unless it he spread over the six 
of Sir W. Temple, Church and State, > hundred pages of octavos and quartos. — 
12 - 



A. HART'S STANDARD WORKS. 



Such men would place Bancroft above Web- 
ster, and SparKS above Calhoun, Adams an<l 
Everett— deny a posterity lor Hryaut's Tlia- 
naiopsis, and predict longevity to Pollok's 
Course of Time. It is siiifjular that the sa- 
gacity which can detect tliouglit only in a 
state ofdilntion, is not sadlj' o;raveled vvhiin 
it thinks of the sententious aphorisms wliich 
have survived whole libraries of folios, and 
the little songs wliich have outrun, in the 
race of fame, so many enormous epics. — 
While it can easily be demonstrated that 
Macaulav's writings contain a hundred-fold 
more matter and thought, than an equal 
number of volumes taken from what are 
called, par eminence, the 'British Essay- 
ists,' it IS not broaching any literary heresy 
to predict, that they will sail as tar down 
the stream of time, as those eminent mem- 
bers of the illustrious family of British elas- 
tics." 

ARCZZXB AXib ALZSOSr. 

THE CRITICAL .4ND MISCELLANEOUS 

WRITINGS OF 
ARCHIBALD ALISON, 

AUTHOR OF " THE HIsTOKV OF tUHOPE," 

In One Volume, 8vo. with a portrait. 

Price ^1 25. 

CONTENTS. 

Chateaubriand, Napoleon. Bossuet, Po- 
land, Madame de Stael, National Monu- 
ments, Marshal Ney, Robert Bruce, Paris 
in 1814, The I^ouvre in 1SI4 Tyrol. France 
in ie-33, Italy, Scott. Campbell and Byron, 
Schools of Design, Lamartine, The Copy- 
right Question, INIichelet's France. Military 
Treason and Civic Soldiers. Arnold's Rome. , 
Mirabeau. Bulwer's Alliens, The Reign of' 
Terror. The French Revolution of 1>:J(I, 
The Fall of Turkey. The Spanish Revolu- 
tion of 1820, Karamsin's Russia, Eflects of I 
the French Revolution of 18o0, Desertion of I 
Portugal, Wellington. Carlist Struggle in 
Spam. The Affghanistan Expedition, The 
Future, &.c. &c. 

THE WORKS OF THE 

REV. SYDNEY SMITH. 

Fine Edition. In One N'olume, with a 
portrait. Price SI 00. 

" Almost every thing he has written is .eo 
characteristic that it would be difficnli to 
attribute it to any other man. The markid 
mdividual features and the rare combina- 
tion of power displayed in his works, give 
them a fascination unconnected with the 
Bubjeclof which he Ireatsor the general cor- 
rectness of his views. Me sometimes hits 
the mark in the white, he sometimes misses 
It altogether, for he by no means confines 
his pen to theories to which lie is calculated 
to do justice; but whether he hits or mis.<es, 
he is always sparkling and delightful. The 
charm of his writings is somewhat similar 
to that of Alontaicne or Charles Lamb." — 
North American Review. 



IV. 

Fi&orzsssoR wzLsonr. 

THE RECREATIONS OF 

CHRISTOPHER NORTH. 

In One Volume 8vo., first American Edition, 
with a Portrait. Price Si 00. 

CONTENTS. 

Christopher in his Sporting Jacket— A 
Tale of Expiation — Morning 'Monologue — 
The Field of Flowers— Cottages— An Hour's 
Talk about Poetry — Inch Cruin — A Day at 
Windermere— The Moors — Highland Snow- 
Storm— The Holy Child— Our Parish— May- 
day — Sacred Poetry— Christopher in his 
Aviary— Dr. Kitchiner — Soliloquy on the 
Seasons — A Few Words on Thomson — 
The Snowball Bicker of Piedmont — Christ- 
mas Dreams — Our Winter Quarters — Stroll 
to Grafsmere — I/Eiivoy. 

Extract from Howitfs ^^ Rural Life." 

" And not less for that wonderful series 
of articles by Wilson, in Blackwood's 
Mn.!xa.zme— in their kind as truly ainazing 
and as truly glorious as the romances of 
Scott or the poetry of Wordsworth. Far and 
wide and much as these papers have been 
admired, wherever Ihe English language is 
read, I still question wheilier any one man 
has a just idea of them as a whole." 

V. 

Carlyle's Miscellanies. 
CRITICAL AKdIiISCELLANEOUS 

ESSAYS OF 

THOMAS CARLVLE. 

In one Svo. volume, with a Portrait. 
Pkice si 75. 
C ONTENTS. 
Jean Paul Friedrich Richter- State of 
German Literature — Werner — Goethe's 
Helena-Gocthe—Burns— Hey ne— German 
Playwnijhts— Voltaire— Nova! is— Signs of 
the Time.s— Jean Paul Friedrich Richter 
again- On History— Schil!er—The Nibel- 
lungen Lied— Early German Literature — 
Taylor's Historic Survey of(ierman Poetry 
— Characteristics— Johnson— Death of Go- 
ethe—Goethe's Works— Diderot— On His- 
tory again— Count Cagliostro— Corn Law 
Rhymes— The Diamond Necklace— Mira- 
btau— French Parliamentary History — 
Walter Scott, &c. &:c. 

VI. 
TAIjFOTJRD & STEPHEN. 

THE CRITICAL WRITINGS 

OF 

T. NOON TALFOUIID 

AND 

JAMES STEPHEN 

WITH A FINELY ENGRAVED POHTKAIT, 



In One Volume, 8vo. 



Price SI i55. 
13 



A. HART'S STANDARD WORKS. 



Contents of <' Talfonrd." ; 

Essays on British Novels and Romances, ; 
introductory to a series of Criticisms on ihe \ 
Living Novelists— ]\Iacl<:enzie. The Author ; 
of Waverley, Godwin, Maturin, Rymer on 
Tragedy, CoUey Gibber's Apology for his ; 
Life, John Dennis's Vv^orks, Modern Pe- 1 
riodical Literature, On the Genius and' 
Writings of Wordsworth, North's Life of! 
Lord Guilford, Hazlitt's Lectures on the I 
Drama, Wallace's Prospects of Mankind, 
Nature and Providence, On Pulpit Ora- 
tory, Recollections of Lisbon, Lloyd's ; 
Poems, Mr Oldaker on Modern Improve- ; 
ments, A Chapter on Time, On the Profes- 
sion of the Bar, The Wine Cellar, Destruc- 
tion of the Brunswick Theatre by Fire,! 
First Appearance of Miss Fanny Kernble, ! 
On the Litellectual Character of the late; 
Wm. Hazlitt. 

Contents of " Stephetit^^ 

Life of Wilberforce, Life of Whitfield and 
Froude, D'Aubigne's Reformation, Life and ; 
Times of Baxter, Physical Theory of Ano- ; 
ther Life, The Port Royalists, Ignatius Loy- 
ola, Taylor's Edwin the Fair. 

" His (Talfourd's) Critical writings mani- 
fest on every page a sincere, earnest and 
sympathizing love of intellectual excel- 
lence and moral beauty. The kindliness! 
of temper and tenderness of sentiment with ! 
which they are animated, are continually; 
suggesting pleasant thoughts of the author." ; 
— North American Review. 

VII. 



THE CRITICAL WRITINGS 

OF 

FRANCIS LORD JEFFREY. 

In One Volume Svo., with a Portrait. 

From a very able article in the Nortli 
British Review we extract the following: 

"It is a book not to be read only— but 
studied— it is a vast repository ; or rather 
a system or institute, embracing the whole 
circle of letters — if we except the exact 
sciences— and contains within itself, not in 
a desultory form, but in a well digested 
scheme, more original conceptions, bold 
and tearless speculation and just reasoning 
on all kinds and varieties of subjects than 
are to be found in any English writer with 
whom we are acquainted within the pre- 
sent or the last generation. * * * His 
choice of words is unbounded and his feli- 
city of expression, to the most impalpable 
shade of discrimination, almost miraculous. 
Playfu., lively, and full of illustration, no 
subject is so dull or so dry that he cannot 
invest it with interest, and none so trifling 
that it cannot acquire dignity or elegance 
from his pencil. Independently however, 
of mere style, and apart from the great 
variety of subjects embraced by his pen, 
the distinguishing feature of his writings, 
and that m which he excels his cotempo- 
rary reviewers, is the deep vein of practical 
tltoaght which runs throughout them all." 
14 



VIII 

SIR JAMES BIAGKINTOSH. 

SIR JAMES MACKINTOSH'-S 

COi^TRlBUTIONS TO THE EDIN- 

BmGII REVIEW. 

Collected and Edited by his Son, 
In One Volume 8vo., with a Portrait, fl 75. 



THE POEMS 



FRAKCES SARGENT OSGOOD. 
IllustratjclJ ^2 i^- ^-^J^t artists. 

In one volume octavo, uniform with Carey (& 
HarVs illustrated Bryant, Willis, <£c. 

The following exquisitely finished line en- 
gravings are from original designs, by our 
most celebrated painters, and are executed in 
the highest style of art: — Portrait of tiie Au- 
thoress ; Hope ; A Child playing with a 
Watch; The Reaper; Ida: Old Friends; The 
Child's Portrait ; Little lied Riding Hood ; 
The Life Boat; Twilight Hours; The Arab 
and his Steed ; Zxileika. 

" There is notliing mechanical about her ; 
all is buoyant, overflowing, irrepressible vi- 
vacity, like the bubbling itp of a natural 
fountain. In her almost childish playful 
ness, she reminds us of that exquisite crea- 
tion of Foiique, Undine, who kuew no law 
but that of her own waywardness. The great 
charm of her poetry is its unaffected simpli- 
city. It is the transparent simplicity of truth, 
reflecting the feeling of the moment like a 
mirror." — Eev. Dr. Davidson. 

"In all the poems of Mrs. Osgood, we find 
occasion to admire the author as well as the 
works. Her spontaneous and instinctive effu- 
sions appear, in a higher degree than any 
otliers in our literature, to combine the rarest 
and highest capacities in art with tlie sincerest 
and deepest sentiments and the noblest aspi- 
rations. They would convince us, if the 
beauty of her life wore otherwise unknown, 
that Mrs. Osgood is one of the loveliest; cha- 
racters in the histories of literature or so- 
ciety." — Pennsylvania Inquirer and Courier. 

"The position of Mrs. O.'sgood, as a graceful 
and womanly poetess, is fixed, and will be 
enduring. To taste of faultless delicacy, a 
remarkable command of poetical language, 
great variety of cadence, and a most mu,'=ical 
versification, she has added recently the high- 
est qualities of insi3iration, imagination, and 
passion, in a degree rarely equalled in tlie 
productions of women. . . . The reputation 
which Mrs. Osgood enjoys, as one of the most 
amiable, true-hearted, and brilliant ladies in 
American societj'-, will add to the good for- 
tune of a book, the intrinsic excellence and 
beauty of which will secure for it a place 
among the Standard creations of female ge- 
nius." — Home Journal. 



A. HART'S STANDARD WORKS. 
POETIOAI. lilBRARY. 



THE POETS AND POETRY OF 
EUROPE, ENGLAND, AMERICA, Etc. 

CAREY & I FART liave just published in four spleiid d vohiiiK^?. heaulifally illustrated, 
and uniform in size w.ih their new edition of '• THE MODERN ESSAYISTS,^^ a>id 
forming a suitable companion to that dtlight/ul series: — 



THE 

POETS AND POETRY OF AMERICA: 

Selections from the Poetical 
Ijiterature of tJie irjiiteil ^ 
States, from tlie Time of 
tlie lievolution, 

WITH A 

Prelim) nary Es$ny on the Progress and 
Condition of Poetry in this Coun- 
try^ and Bios;raphiraland Cri- 
tical Notices of the most 
eminent Poets. 

ByRUFUS w. griswold. 

EIGHTH EDITION, REVISED AND ENLARGED. 

Elegantly bound in Coi'd Calf and Morocco. 
Price S5 00, or in Cloth Ciilt, m 00 

" We think in the 500 pages of this beau- 
tiful volume, the reader will fi.jd nearly ail 
that is worih reading :n American I'oetry." 
— Boston Post. 

"Mr. G has done a service lo our litera- 
ture which eminently enliiles him to the re- 
gard and favor of a discerning and impartial 
public." — NatioJial Intelligencer. 

"No belter seleciion from the poetry of 
our native bards has ever been made, and 
no person could do better with the mate- 
rials than iMr. Griswold has done." — Boston 
Trayiscript. 

THE 

POETS A^D POETRY OF EUROPE: 

WITH 

Kiograpliical ?fotlces and 
Traiislatiou.s, 

From the Earliest Period to the Present 
Time. 

By HENRY W. LONGFELf.OW. 
In One Large 8vo. Volume, 750 Pages. 
Morocco elegant, S5 50, or cloth gill, .§3 75. 
Which comprises Iranslalioiis from the fol- 
iowing: Anglo-Saxon. Icelandic. Swe- 
dish, Dutch. CJertnan. French, Ita- 
lian, Spanish, Portuguese, &c. 
&,c. 

"It is the most complete work of the kind 
in English literature." — Boston Courier. 

'• A more desirable work for the scholar 
or man of taste has scarcely ever been is- 
•uedin the United Slates."— iV. Y. Tribune 



ILLUSTRATED POEMS. 

I BY MRS. L. H. SIGOURNEY, 

' With Designs by F. O. C. Darley, 

ENGRAVED BY DISTINGIHSHED ARTISTS. 

With a Portrait of the Authoress by Cheney 
after Freeman. 

LIST or ILLUSTRATIONS. 
The Divided Burden— A Landscape— Oris- 
ka— The Ancient Family Clock — Eve— The 
Scottish Weaver— The Indian Summer- 
Erin's Daughter— The Western Emi^a-ant— 
The Aged Pastor— The Tomb— The Droopine 
Team— The Beautiful Maid. 

"The volume is a most luxuriou.q and gor- 
geous one, reflecting the highest credit on 
its 'getters up;' and we know of nothing 
from the American press which would form 
a more acceptable gift-book, or a richer orna- 
ment for the centre-table. Of the Poems 
themselves it is needless to speak."- r:i?/arfe. 
•'In the arts of typography the volume is 
un.'surpa.^sed; the; illustrations are numerous 
and beautitul, and the binder's skill has done 
its best. We shall speak only of the exter- 
nals of the volume. Of its contents we will 
not speak flippantly, nor is it needful that 
we should say any thing. The name of 3Irs. 
Sigourney is familiar in every cottage in 
America. She has, we think, been more 
generally read than any poetess in the coun- 
try, and her pure fame is reverently cherished 
by all.'-— ^V. O. Picayune. 

"It is illustrated in the most brilliant 

manner, and is throughout a gem-volume." 

Pa. Inciuirer. 

'•In this production, however, they have 
excelled them.«elves. The illustrations are 
truly beautiful, and are exuuisitelv engraved. 
iJie entire execution of the volume is a proud 
evidence of the growing su])eriority of book- 
making on the part of American publishers." 
— J)i'Hur Newi^papcr. 

'•This work, so beautifully embellished, 
and elegantly printed, containing the .select 
writings of one of the most celebrated female 
poets of America, cannot fail to be received 
with apj)rol)atiou."— i\'tu'/;Mrj/7)or< J'aper. 

"The iIlu.strations are trulv beautiful, and 
are exquisit.ly engraved. Thev are from 
de.sjjrns by Darley, who has risen to high 
eminence in his department of art. The e'n- 
tire e.xccution of the vt.luine is a proud evi- 
dence of growing superiority in b(X)k-iuakin<» 
on the part of American publishers. And 
this liberality has not been displayed upon a 
work unworthy oi iV'—N.Y. Commercial Adv, 

15 



A. HART'S STANDARD MEDICAL WORKS. 



IIiXiUSTRATSD BIHDiaAI. £<IBRAR7. 

CAREY & HART have recently published the following valuable Medical and Sur- 
gical works, superbly illustrated— to which they beg leave to cj.I! the aiieniiou of the 
profession. This splendid series now forms six royal quari"^ volumes, containing 
FOUR HUNDRED AND EIGHTY QUARTO PLATES, be uuifully executed; and 
the price at which they are offered is infinitely less than any siiuilar works have here- 
tofore been published. 

QUAIN'S INifOlIOAL PLATES, 

PAMCOAST'S 0FERATI"^21 SURaEHlT, 

MOREiU'S GREIT WORK O'i MIDWIFERY, 

■GODDARD ON THE TEETH, 
EICOEB OH EXTEEME CASES OF YEl^EEEAL DISEASES, 
AND KAYER ON DISEASES OF THE SKIN. 



I. 

A SERIES OF 



With References and Physiological Com- ^ 

mentS; illustrating the structure of the [ 

different parts of the Human Body. J 

EDITED BY ( 

JONES QUAIN, M.D.,AND | 
W. J. ERASMUS WILSON. \ 

With Notes and Additions by S 

JOSEPH PANCOAST, M. D., ^ 

Professor of Anatomy in the Jefferson Me- 
dical College of Philadelphia. 

THIRD AMERICAN KDITION. 

The Plates are accompanied by letter- 
press, containing detailed references to the 
various objects delineated. But with a 
view to render them intelligible to a greater 
nuinber of persons, a running commentary 
on each plate is given, stating in general 
terms, and divested, as far as can be, of all 
technicality, the uses and purposes which 
the different objects serve in the animal 
economy. 

THE WORK CONSISTS OF THE FOLLOWING 
DIVISIONS : 

THE MUSCLES OF THE HUMAN 
BODY, Fifty-one Plates. 

THE VESSELS OF THE HUMAN 
BODY, Fifty Plates. 

THE NERVES OF THE HUMAN 
BODY, Thirty -p.ight Plates. 

THE VISCERA OF THE HUMAN 
BODY, including the Organs of Digestion, 
Respiration, Secretion and Excretion, 
Thirty-tivo Plates. 
16 



THE BONES AND LIGAMENTS, 
Thirty Plates. 

Com-plete in One Royal Quarto Volume of 
nearly .500 pages, and 200 plates, compris- 
ing nearly 7W separate illustrations. Be- 
ing the only complete systetn of Anatomi- 
cal Plates, on a large scale., ever published 
in America. 

Price only $15, clotli gilt, or 
$30 colored after nature. 



H. 

OB^IiM.TTWB SUBGSRIT; 

OR, 

A DESCRIPTION AND DEMONSTRA- 
TION OP THE VARIOUS PRO- 
CESSES OF THE ART; 

INCLUDING ALL THE NEW OPERATIONS, 
AND EXI-IIEITING THE STATE OF SUR- 
GICAL SCIENCE IN ITS PRESENT 

ADVANCED CONDITION. 

BY JOSEPH PANCOAST, M.D., 

Profe.^sor of General, Descriptive and Sur- 
gical Anaiomy in Jefferson Medical 
College, Philadelphia. 

CoTnplete in One Royal 4to. Volum,e of 3S0 
pages of letterpress description and eighty 
large ito. plates, comprising 486 Illustra- 
tions, and being the only complete 
work on the subject in the English 
Language. Price, fullbound 
in cloth, only SIO. 

Second Edition, Improved. 

"This excellent work is con.strucced on 
Ihe model of the French Surgical Works 
by Velpeau and Malgaigne ; and, so far as 
the English language is concerned, we are 



A. HART'S STANDARD MEDICAL WORKS. 



proud as an American to say that, of its phor, which equals that of Dr. Goddard — 
KIND IT HAS NO SUPERIOR." — New YorA: i One reasuH for Uiis uiay arisc froin llic c if- 
Joiirnal of Medicine. <cuinstance, that ihe learned author is a 

"For this beautiful volume, the student ^practical anatomist, whose knowledge is 
and practitioner of Surgery will leel grate- ? on a level with the modern discoveries, 
ful to tlie ability and industry of Prof Pan- , and who has himself autheniicated the 
coast. The drawing and execution of the S latest researches into the uiuiute anatomy 
plates are splendid examples of American \ of the dental structure. It is quite apparent 
art, and do credit to Messrs. Cichowski \ that such knowledge must prove of inl- 
and Duval, while the description is no less < raense value in enabling any one to arrive 
creditable to the author. We have ex- \ at just conclusions relative to the diseases 
amined the book with care, and feel great I ofthe teeth ; and it is chiefly to be attributed 
pleasure in declaring tliat, in our opinion, Mo the want of such knowledge that most 
It IS a most valuable addition to the surgical ? writers on Dental Surgery have erred so 
literature of the United States. It was a > much relative to tlie causes and nature of 
happy idea to illustrate this department of S these diseases. The work may confidently 
surgery, as it renders perfectly clear what > be recommended, as containiiifj the best and 



the very best verbal description often 
leaves obscure, and is, to some extent, a 
substitute for witnessing operations. To 
those practitioners especially, who are 
called upon occasionally, only, to perform 
operations, we are not acquainted with any 
volume better calculated for relerence prior 
to using the kuite. There are similar 
works published in Europe, but they are 
much more expensive, without being supe- 
rior in point of usefulness to the very cheap 
volume belbre us. 

"All the modern operations for the cure 
of squinting, club-foot, and the replacing 
lost parts and repairing deformities from 
partial destruction of the nose, &c., are very 
clearly explained and prettily illustrated. 
It is questionable w^hether anything on this 
subject can be better adajited to its purpose, 
than Pancoast's Operative Surgery."— Sa- 
turday Courier. 



III. 



GODDARD ON THE TEETH. 

THE 

ANATOMY, PHYSIOLOGY, 

AND DISEASES 

OF THE 

TXZETH AND GUIVIS, 

WITH THE MOST APPROVED METHODS OF 

TREATMENT, INCLUDING 0PER.\TI0NS, 

AND A GENERAL ACCOUNT OF THE 

METHOD OF MAKING AND 

SETTING 

Artificial Tectli. 

By PAUL BECK GODDARD, M. D., 

Professor of Anatomy and llisiology in 
the Franklin College of Philadelphia. 

In One 4to. Volume, illustrated by 30 

beautifully executed Plates, each 

containing Numerous Figures, 

handsomely bound in cloth. 

Price S'lK Dollars. 

Vnifortnwith " Qiiaia^s Anatomy.^'' " Pa»i- 

coast's Surgery,''' ami •• JMoreau's 

Midwifery." 

" We do not possess a modern work on 

DentalSurgery, written by a British Au- 



7nost approved methods of performing all 
the operations connected loitli Dental Sur- 
:ery. 

" We cannot close our remarks without 
adverting to the thirty very beauiilul liiho- 
jraphs which illustrate the text. They 
render it quite impossible to misunderstand 
the author, and alford a very favorable ex- 
ample of the advanced state of the Art on 
the American Continent."— Edinburgh Me- 
dical and SurgicalJournal, 1814. 



IV. 

MOREAU'S 

Great Work on Mid^wifery 

A PRACTICAL TREATISE 

EXHIBITING THE I'R F.S KNT AD- 
VANCED STATE OF TliE 
SCIENCH. 

BY F. G. MOREAU. 

Translated from the French 
BY T. FOREST BETTON, M, D., 

AIS'D EDITED 

BY PAUL BECK GODDARD, M. D. 

The whole illustrated by 
Eighty Spltndid i(innlo IHatcs^ 

WHICH ARE EITHER 

Tlie Size of £<ife, 

OR EXACTLY HALF THE SIZE. 

Upon which the first artists have been 

employed, and which are fully equal, 

if not superior, to the ori-^inal, 

and the publishers can safely 

pronounce it 

THE MOST SPLENDID WORK ON MID- 
WIFERY EVER PUBLISHED. 

Now co7nplete in one larse 4to. volume, oj (H6 
size of '^Qiiain's Anatomy^ ••Pun- 
; coast''s Surgery,'''' and '• Goddard 

' on Ihe Teeth. ''^ 

Price TEN DOLIiARS, full 
l>ountl ill clotli 

J "The work of Professor Moreau is a 
' treasure of Obstetrical Science and Prac- 

17 



A. HART'S STANDARD MEDICAL WORKS. 



tice, and the American edition of it an ele- 
gant specimen of the arts." — Medical Exa- 
miner, August, 1844. 

" A splendid quarto, containing- eighty 
litliographic plates, true to the life, has been 
some weeks before us— but we are groping 
our way through a mass of new works, 
w^ith a full expectation of soon doing jus- 
tice to the merits of this elaborate and truly 
beautiful work." — Boston Med. and Surg. 
Journal. 

" Moreau's treatise is another valuable 
work upon the science of Midwifery, with 
eighty of the most spLendid lithographic 
plates w^e have ever seen. THESE IL- 
LUSTRATIONS ARE ENGRAVED 
WITH SO MUCH BEAUTY AND AC- 
CURACY, AND UPON SO LARGE A 
SCALE, that they cannot fail to present to 
the eye the precise relation of the foetus and 
of the parts engaged in labor, under every 
condition and circumstance, from the com- 
mencement of the siate of natural parturi- 
tion, to the most difficult and complicated 
labor. The profession are greatly indebted 
to French industry in pathological and spe- 
cial anatomy for the continued advance in 
the science of Obstetrics ; and the work 
before us may be regarded as the comple- 
tion of all that has accumulated in this 
department of medical science, greatly en- 
hanced in value by many valuable original 
suggestions, to the proper arrangement of I 
which the author has devoted a great 
amount of labor. The translation is faiiii- 
fuUy and elegantly done, and the work will 
be a valuable addition to the medical lite- 
rature of our country."— iVei« York Journal 
of Medicine. 



V. 
A THEORETICAL 

AND 

PRACTICAL TREATISE 

ON THE 

BISEASSS OF THE ill! 

BY P. RAYER, 



D. 



Physician to La Charit^ Hospital. 

From the Second Edition, entirely remo- 
deled. With Notes and other Additions, 

BY JOHlM bell, M. D. 

Fellow of the College of Physicians of Phi- 
ladelphia, Member of the American 
Philosophical Society, and of the 
Gengofili Society of Florence, 
and Editor of Bell and 
Stokes' Practice of Me- 
dicine, &c. &c. 
In One Royal Ato. Volume. 
With Forty Beautifully Colored Plates, 

COBIFRISING FOUR HUNDRED SEPARATE 
ILLUSTRATIONS, 

Carefully Colored from Nature, and 450 
pages of Letterpress. 

Handsomely bound in Cloth Grilt. 
Price .*15 00. 



Opinions of the Press. 

" We take leave of our author with the 
declaration that. his work is a monument of 
the mostextra.ordinary industry. We have 
no hesitation in adding that it is the best 
book we possess in any language on the 
subject ; and- that should any of our read- 
ers desire to sail over the unbounded sea 
of letterpress formed of the history and 
pathology of the diseases of the cutaneous 
surface, M. Rayer should be his pilot " 

Of the PLA.TES. — " Considered in this re- 
spect, but more especially in reference to 
the number of illustrations of the general 
species and varieties of such order which 
it contains, this Atlas far surpasses any 
that has yet appeared. ON THE WHOLE 
RAYEIVS ATLAS MAY CONSCIEN- 
TIOUSLY BE SAID TO CONTAIN 
THE MOST COMPLETE SERIES OF 
ILLUSTRATIONS OF CUTANEOUS 
DISEASES HITHERTO PUBLISH- 
ED, AND IS. BESIDES, not only cheap- 
er than any other, but well worth the sum 
for v»rkich it is offered to the profession "— 
British and Foreign Medical Review. 



A PRACTICAL TREATISE 

ON THE 

DISEASES OF THE TESTIS, 

AND OF THE 

SPERMATIC CORD AND SCROTUM. 

BY J. B. CURLING. 
Edited by P. B. GODDARD, M. D., 

With fifty-four Illustrations, engraved 
on Wood by Gilbert; and printed 
on large type and fine paper. 
I'rice $3 00. 
" We have another instance of it in the 
work of Mr. Curling, a diligent laborer, 
who has carefully collected every fact 
within his reach, relative to the diseases of 
the Testis and Spermatic Cord, producing 
A Volume that may for many years be 
the Standard Work on those Diseases. 
We shall conclttde our notice with an ex- 
tract relative to a new and promising me- 
thod of treating varicose veins, and take 
leave of the volume by warmly recom- 
mending that it be added to the library of 
every surgeon." — London Lancet, August^ 
1843. 

ON EXTREME CASES OP 

VEHEEEAL DISEASES 

Cured at the Venereal Hospital at Paris, 

Under the direction of Dr. Ph. Eicord, with 
276 elegantly coloured engravings, in one 
volume quarto, uniform with " Quain's Ana- 
tomical Plates," " Pancoast's Operative Sur 
gery," &c. Price $15.00 doth, gilt. 



18 



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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



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